David Ker Thomson

What I’m mostly up for this morning by way of taxing your half-million earballs is this virgin I nearly did the nasty on a few minutes ago. Sweet thing, legal eighteen I guess but looks like my dad used to say, ‘sweet sixteen and never been kissed’.

Well, I’m no prude, but I have to say that the level of offense this advertisement (alas, an ad it is, and the girl’s putting out for the West Toronto Kia at 2445 St. Clair West) generated in me is so intense that my outrage is—and here I wish to be very precise—literally inexpressible.

I mean that in a legal sense. I’m not even allowed to hint at what I think an appropriate response would be for people who run an ad depicting a virgin, a Rio automobile, and a price in such filthy juxtaposition here in the midst of the killing fields. And I’m committed to non-violence. “You never forget YOUR FIRST,” says the ad, which is how we know that, until the deal is sealed, virginity’s for sale. “Why settle for used? Drive new for the same price. 2008 RIO5. We have a fresh one for you…just call us for a pick-up.” Turns out that we don’t have to settle for a “beater,” since the new Rio is “sweet.”

For my part, I’ve never forgotten my first. Guy swerved right and caught me between his car and a parked one. Luckily I’d been doing that proto-parkour stuff and I leapt up and over and landed on the sidewalk. My bike didn’t fare so well. The guy stopped and prostrated himself with apologies and all, but I couldn’t help thinking that without that bit of self rapture I’d have been between a rock and a hard place.

Rio, eh? I live in ’rio, a province of small rivers and big lakes, so the name kind of stands out. These Rios are one of the many eco-friendly cars friendly for the backside of cyclists in the killing fields of the city. We are the cyclists killed every year by eco-friendly cars, hybrid “electric” buses with not one but two powerplants (echo, echo: both powerplants running on energy from fossil fuel), fuckers in leanly carbureted Volvos and their all-wheel-drive brethren, and so on. All the ‘good’ drivers and their clean green killing machines. Leprechaun terrorists.

FULL STORY

Open Letter

--an open letter to the motorist who nearly killed me last Friday morning, from a bicycle rider

Dear Ma'am,

We first met at a four way stop in suburban Burnaby. It was Friday morning and, I guess, we were both on our way to work. As I was to your right, I proceeded to turn right, while you waited your turn and proceeded straight. We were both headed down the hill, we both had to stop at the bottom to wait for traffic to clear. I was in front of you, but surely not blocking your view. You could not have failed to notice there were cars parked along both sides of the narrow street, allowing a space where only one vehicle could safely travel at a time.

When you leaned on your horn I was not too upset. Sadly, this is an all too common occurrence, usually a sign of ignorance and impatience, no matter what vehicles we choose to drive. However, when you revved your engine and proceeded to illegally pass me within four inches of my elbow, that is what upset me. Your choice to dangerously pass me was as much a threat as you pointing a gun out your window. Your choice to deliberately endanger my life raised my anger. Go figure.

Perhaps you were unclear about why I was in the middle of the travel lane. As I cannot trust that people will look before opening their doors into traffic, I cannot be as close to the parked cars as you might like. Should someone fail to check and open their door in front of me, my choice is to crash into a hard sharp metal object and the person exiting their vehicle, or swerve out into traffic, right in front of you. Sorry, but neither of these is good, so I will always choose the third option--to be in the middle of the street where I can see and be seen, where a car door heedlessly swung open will have no effect upon me.

I am not in the middle of the lane to show off the beauty and superior efficiency of my vehicle. I am not there to deliberately slow you down. My reason for being there is purely selfish I will admit, it is for my own safety. I am in the middle of the road because it is not safe for you to pass. When it is safe, I will most certainly pull to the side to allow you by. Until then, please be patient.

If you would have exercised two seconds of patience, I would have turned left at the next intersection. I did not want you tailgating me any more than you wanted me slowing your progress. Maybe you were running late, but if I ended up under the wheels of your truck due to your reckless negligence, what delay would that have caused you? Would you have even stopped?

If you had exercised two seconds of patience, we would have both arrived at work happier people, instead of being angered and frustrated for the duration of our commute and beyond.

When you stopped and rolled down your window, I enquired if you were deliberately trying to kill me. From my perspective this is what you were attempting to do. I seriously doubt this was your intention; I'm sure friends and family regard you as a nice person. However, for a lack of two seconds of patience, you could have negatively changed both our lives forever.

Your only reply was, "Share the Road." Perhaps you are confused about what this means. It does not mean I should cower in the gutter and allow your environment killing dinosaur to roar by heedlessly. It does not mean I should put my safety in jeopardy so that you can arrive at the next stop sign two seconds earlier.

Bicycle riders have no choice but to share the road, so this is mostly a plea to motorists. Just because you choose the most selfish of transportation options does not mean your time is more valuable than mine, it does not mean you have any more right to the road than I do, and it certainly does not give you any right to deliberately endanger my life.

yours,
on two wheels,
David

Tell me why

                   Why is it that if I am crazy enough to take a large and powerful weapon out of my house, travel for a short while and then begin to target individuals out enjoying their day; peaceable law-abiding people causing no harm to no one, if I should target guys wearing hats, or kids playing basketball or any random assortment of people engaged in a mutual activity like walking down the street or riding bicycles, if I should maliciously and willfully try to cause grievous injury or death--why is it that the consequences of this certifiably insane act of mayhem should be weighed in the balance of my choice of weapon?

Now to create mayhem without consequence, the choice of weapon is one to be pondered before a hasty decision is reached. Maximum effectiveness might be realized through the use of an M1A1, a highly efficient and manoeuvrable killing machine. The trouble is that deniability is hard to  claim as they drag your smoking corpse from the hull of your shattered tank. Besides, those babies are really hard to get a hold of.

No I'll need something more practical, more personal, more American--I need a gun. Not just any gun. I need a big gun. A really big gun....

So now that I got my Mr.Keaton giant earthworm killin' death bringer loaded, one must decide upon a target, say, bicyclists...NO--short people. Yes that's it, short people. They are always getting in front of you when you're walking and because they have small little legs they take short little steps, so they're slow as jam and you're in a damn hurry and why are you so slow??!  They usually wear weird clothes too, a fine enough reason right there.

--But wait.

I must admit that I have been watching a lot of  NCIS on the tube lately and you know them crafty coppers have a million and one ways to tie you to a gun like that. Shoot a bunch of people down and  your options become few--a bullet self administered, die in a hail of police gunfire, or spend the rest of your mortality swapping out brutality, sodomy and boredom.

--There must be a better way. Hmmmm, there must be a better way. Think think think.

--I know. I've got it! I've been overthinking this all along. The answer is sitting right there. Right there in my driveway.

I can get behind the wheel and for the most part can give my attention  to my cell phone, changing the CD, making a grocery list, checking my email, balancing a cup of coffee, burning a cigarette, swattin' the kids--anything and everything expect paying attention to actually driving. This is viewed and is fully accepted as normal and rational behavior.

I can get behind the wheel and injure, maim and kill others, usually with minimal consequence. The word "accident" will be falsely applied to many of my sins, so long as I keep it alcohol free (cuz those Muthas will put a quick end to all the fun) . When the accident excuse fails, it is of little matter, for remember always that it is very rare that you will be labeled as "killer" or "attempted murderer"  because first and foremost you are a "driver", and that supercedes all.

I can kill a man with a gun and receive twenty-five years to life as punishment, kill the same man with my car and, most often, I'll see NO jail time.

Routinely we view a driver's license as a right and not a privilege. Driver's licenses are handed out to wild-eyed sixteen year olds like ritalin is handed out to their little brothers. At the other end of the scale, old men who can barely walk and barely see still motor around in their oversized ancient automobiles, yet it cannot be argued that those whose wisdom has increased are shown to have decreased reaction times. 

All organisms degenerate, all systems will slow to zero. 

How do we acknowledge this fact when it comes to making the tough decision about our very old relatives, within our families and within our societies, about their "right" to drive? We rely on self-assessment, or more often, wait for the inevitable "accident" to happen.