A little tirade against bringing bikes on the New York subway

I got on the 4 train at Fulton Street.  At Astor Place, a short, muscular guy in tight black Lycra shorts pushed his stupid peeling, white bike into the car next to me.

He almost hit me but didn't.  I wondered if I should punch him if he did.  I never punch anybody except in the ring, but I am always fighting imaginary fights in my mind.

Probably not too bright to think of street fighting.  Most of these guys carry weapons.

No, I'm not a racist.  He wasn't black.  He was white.

For the next few stops, people juggled in and out as my Lycra-wearing biker tilted his bike from side to side.  He was coming close to me.  I was getting angrier and angrier.  I felt claustrophobic.  What was he doing here?

I thought bikes were used up in the streets to prevent pollution.  I thought they were used for exercise, to keep in shape.  What the hell was he doing here, causing congestion in an already crowded train?

Bikes should not be allowed on the train.  Or if allowed, the MTA should charge extra for them.  They take up space for about two people plus the rider.  Instead of charging $2.75, he and his bike should be charged $11.

But far be it for the MTA and the mayor to charge for bicycles or to kick bicycles out of the subways.  The politicians are into environmentalism and health.  So they figure they look good letting sweaty bicyclists fill the trains with their faux athleticism and their sweaty shorts.

Why not let the jerks bring kiddy pools with them so they can take a dip when they are bored?

Is that Lance Armstrong over there or just some jerk on steroids?

I got out at 68th Street and Lexington Ave.  A nice neighborhood.  I wanted to kill the biker, but I didn't want to go back to jail.

I walked past 740 Park, the richest building in the world.  I've known some of the billionaires there.  Not well.  I was never of their class.

When I walked around the corner, there was a shabby rack for Citi bikes.  This sickened me, too – you don't dumb down class with cheap bikes.  It's corny.  But at least the street wasn't as claustrophobic as the subway.

I wrote my doctoral dissertation on the metanovel.  A bike in a train is like metatransportation.  It is a traveling redundancy.

I got on the 4 train at Fulton Street.  At Astor Place, a short, muscular guy in tight black Lycra shorts pushed his stupid peeling, white bike into the car next to me.

He almost hit me but didn't.  I wondered if I should punch him if he did.  I never punch anybody except in the ring, but I am always fighting imaginary fights in my mind.

Probably not too bright to think of street fighting.  Most of these guys carry weapons.

No, I'm not a racist.  He wasn't black.  He was white.

For the next few stops, people juggled in and out as my Lycra-wearing biker tilted his bike from side to side.  He was coming close to me.  I was getting angrier and angrier.  I felt claustrophobic.  What was he doing here?

I thought bikes were used up in the streets to prevent pollution.  I thought they were used for exercise, to keep in shape.  What the hell was he doing here, causing congestion in an already crowded train?

Bikes should not be allowed on the train.  Or if allowed, the MTA should charge extra for them.  They take up space for about two people plus the rider.  Instead of charging $2.75, he and his bike should be charged $11.

But far be it for the MTA and the mayor to charge for bicycles or to kick bicycles out of the subways.  The politicians are into environmentalism and health.  So they figure they look good letting sweaty bicyclists fill the trains with their faux athleticism and their sweaty shorts.

Why not let the jerks bring kiddy pools with them so they can take a dip when they are bored?

Is that Lance Armstrong over there or just some jerk on steroids?

I got out at 68th Street and Lexington Ave.  A nice neighborhood.  I wanted to kill the biker, but I didn't want to go back to jail.

I walked past 740 Park, the richest building in the world.  I've known some of the billionaires there.  Not well.  I was never of their class.

When I walked around the corner, there was a shabby rack for Citi bikes.  This sickened me, too – you don't dumb down class with cheap bikes.  It's corny.  But at least the street wasn't as claustrophobic as the subway.

I wrote my doctoral dissertation on the metanovel.  A bike in a train is like metatransportation.  It is a traveling redundancy.