Rage Against the Machines

I'm not really one to write a journal much, except when completely confused by some stupidity in which I am engaging, and trying to figure out what the hellz is going on with all that... or convincing myself to continue to engage, justifying, that kind of thing.

But I did look back on my blog of the past couple years this morning, to see if I have felt the rage and sadness I felt, say, last evening, and again this morning when I woke up wishing I hadn't woken up, and sure enough, last year I was raving about the crappy service people in service positions (ie. convenience store sales, gear shop sales) gave my brother and me while we were trying to do canyon country in the pouring rain; and the year before I was morose as all hell, crying at potluck and finding solace only in the early morning mist of the hills.

Yesterday it was what's been bothering me for what seems like aeons now, but really has been only several months: vehicle traffic, both two- and four-wheeled. What the hellz is it with people on bikes that they don't follow the road rules? It's like people forget- or maybe no one ever taught them- that they are supposed to act like vehicular traffic and do things like drive on the street, in the proper lane, and cross at the green lights, and stop at intersections. You know, the stuff cars and trucks do? But, shite, here in Laramie, trust me, people in four-wheeled vehicles don't follow those rules either, as evidenced by my almost daily witnessing of people blowing through red lights at 13th and Grand or 15th and Grand (Grand being the main E-W street in town and the intersections with 13th and 15th being two very busy ones near campus.)

I consider writing a letter to the editor, often, but crap, it's not my job to make sure people are following the law and not killing or being killed. That's their own job, and when they screw up, it's the cops' job to bust them for it. I'd rather throw rocks at their windshields, or better yet, catch up to them, pull them out of the drivers seat, or off the bicycle seat, and punch them in the face with my jackknife.

But, then who would be the one to get in trouble? It's a lose-lose situation.