We Know Where You Live

We get a ton of great emails from you guys every day and I make sure to read every single one.  This week, one in particular took the cake. It was just a picture of a piece of paper and note that said “put this in a mailbox tonight”.  I think this is 100%  pure awesome.

 

You tried to pass me while I was passing the FedEx truck, then you all but ran me off the road, fortunately I was able to travel into the church parking lot.

I was riding a bicycle.

You were driving a white Lincoln.

You were less than a quarter mile from home.

Had you slowed for just five seconds and been courteous, kind, and respectful of me and my safety, it would have changed everything.

You did the opposite.

You were in too big of a hurry to be kind and considerate, and you risked my life with no fear to your own just so you could pull into your garage five seconds early.

You have no idea who I am.

I know where you live.

Drunkcyclist. We know where you live.

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About dirty biker

I am a fan of singletrack, singlespeeds, single malt, and single women. Tempe, Arizona, USA

24 thoughts on “We Know Where You Live

  1. best shit ever. the odds of getting screwed and being able to see where they live. fuck man buy a lottery ticket.

  2. Nah, let’s make him RIDE a rusty huffy.

    Through rush hour traffic.

    While we follow him in his white Lincoln.

    “You’ve got to ask yourself a question. ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well do ya, punk?”

  3. Here’s a thought. Why not knock on the door and explain to the driver why their behavior was unsafe? Maybe putting a face and humanity to the cyclist will make the driver think and be more respectful. If the driver isn’t cooperative, he could make good on his threats IN PERSON. I’m not saying that the writer is gutless, but I don’t see how anonymous threats will generate respect, only mistrust and fear. That ain’t helping anything. Much like nobody respects a bunch of internet tough guys talking about gettin’ a rope.
    Or you could just leave a burning bag of poop on their doorstep.

  4. I like Mothra’s approach. My addition to that would be to have a couple dozen cyclists show up at the door step one evening during dinner time.

    Get the family involved with some local educational cycling material being presented at the doorstep.

    If they have kids, maybe a couple donated helmets.

    Then, each rider can introduce them self by saying “Hi, I’m Chad. I ride a bike. Please don’t kill me on your way home. Thank you.”

    The douchebag feeling that would ensure within ought to be enough to cripple his sperm, preventing further reproduction.

  5. And then they can all hug it oot, eh, and sing kum by yah.

    Or maybe Mr. White Lincoln will spray lead.

  6. What Joe said…depending on the state, you could end up getting shot with no charge filed against the occupant, just like getting hit by a car often results in no charges…it is eff’ed up, but it is reality (depending on where you live).

    Further, threatening the driver is likely to make him treat other cyclists worse, not better but hey, it probably won’t be the guy who threatened him who gets it.

  7. No argument there. Just sayin’ goin’ to the cocksusker’s house and confronting him would be askin’ for trouble.

    Of course, if you were to do it in a public place in front of several sympathetic witnesses…

    Or you could go all Spike Bike, which might feel good, but even I wouldn’t recommend it.

  8. “I know where you live” is an obvious attempt to intimidate…

    I would take that as a threat and if you showed up at my house with my family there you would be taking your life in your own hands.

    Turn up the heat as far as you want, but when the reaction happens don’t whine about it.

  9. …perhaps someone should compile a list of ‘biker down’ posts & leave those for him with a note saying “we’re not here to threaten you but as cyclist’s, this is our reality…please understand…”

  10. I followed a guy home once after he tried to force me off the road and yelled “get on the sidewalk” at me out his window. He was totally flabbergasted as he was getting out of his car and I rolled up on to his lawn. I was pretty pissed off, and he just kept repeating “you followed me? You followed ME? over and over again. I yelled at him a bit and he kept yelling back about those “damn bikers running red lights.” And stuff. As I started to calm down I just took off my glasses and said “look, my name is Matt and I live up the street from you. I ride my bike to and from work every day, and I just want to get there safely.” Things got a little more civilized then, and we ended with a handshake and at least a little bit of understanding. Plus, he knows that I know where he lives.

  11. do what i did when a tweeker stole my bike…keep slashing tires until fuckface has to move. then take a dump in the mailbox