Obese Bastard On A Bike

           

            On Thursday, June 9^th, I’d kept the windows and my door shut all day and even wore a long sleeved shirt because the temperature on the previous day had really cooled down the apartment.

            I washed a very dirty bathmat, a yellow sheet and a tasselled beige tablecloth that I’d used for many years in lieu of a curtain, and hung them out back. It was really not bad outside and everything dried quite quickly. My apartment takes quite a while to warm up once it has cooled down.

            I had brought my long sleeved shirt along in my backpack when I went for my bike ride that evening, but I really didn’t need it.

            The ride east is always a challenge during that time of a weekday because of all the bicycle traffic. I can get ahead of most all the other cyclists if I can find room between them and the car traffic to do so. At Broadview, a bunch of us were lined up at the light, when the same overweight rider that I’d passed a couple days before rode slowly up from behind to the front of the queue. After the light changed and I got ahead of everyone else but the fat man and another cyclist. I think that the younger rider was trying to talk to the obese man about jumping ahead, but just as I was passing them both he was being told to “go to hell!” His response was, “You know what sir? Have a nice day!” I wonder why the flabby cyclist is so bitter. He acts like he’s being forced to ride a bike, doesn’t like it and is going to take it out on everybody else. Or maybe he’s an inconsiderate ass in all of his activities.

            I finished exploring all of the streets south of O’Connor between Broadview and Donlands. I just have a few more streets to look at and then I’ll cross the bridge and see what’s in the area on the other side of the river and south of Eglinton. That might take the rest of the summer, so I’ll miss riding on the Danforth. It’s kind of a pleasant neighbourhood.

            The way home tends to be more relaxing because I don’t have to pass so many other cyclists.

            At Yonge and Dundas, there was some kind of idiotic “food challenge” going on in the square and an equally idiotic evangelist preaching about Jesus, though his idiocy was exoticised by his African garb.