Looking through Stephen Roullier’s excellent collection of images from last Friday’s Midnight Ridazz ride, I found he got one of me in all my helmetcam’d, The Phoenix-straddling glory during a pitstop at the corner of Hyperion and Rowena near the beginning of the ride:

Midnight Ridazz

Turns out my overview post on the Bicycle Kitchen blog has “created” a dialogue and when Stephen commented that he couldn’t tolerate the idea of riders littering along the route, I agreed and got more than a little righteous about being ready to call bullshit to such egregiousness if it ever happened in front of me:

…any litterpunks on the rides I’ve been on are very fortunate they haven’t pitched in my presence because I would fucking ride alongside shaming them for being being such eco-dicks. I can deal with the bozos and the inexperienced who put themselves and other riders at risk with their antics, but I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing someone dumping trash during a ride.”

That kind of Father Knows Best behavior sat none to well with a fellow rider (and I use “fellow” in the most general sense) who then spewed his idiot venom and his insults in a comment from behind the anonymous monikor of “N.I.C.” This jackass felt it necessary to demean me while contending that I was somehow “morally weak” for expecting riders to comport themselves in a generally respectful and ethical manner. He writes:

The only rule that should apply is to have fun for a night…all you moral watch-dogs can put your actions to the test and clean up my mess.”

It gets a lot worse and even more idiotic. First he tries to couch his rebel-without-a-clue chaos behind the big bad city and how it’s always keeping the homies down:

Growing up in the city teaches you that it is not designed for its people. try going somewhere just to hang out and see how much money people have to put up just to chill-out. One-night we take back the streets and simply say, “f*ck what we’ve created, the city is ours, we deserve to ride.”

Then he somehow rationalizes that it was OK to urinate all over Glendale as payback for being figuratively pissed on by that city’s, shall we say, “overzealous” police department — and he invites us crybabies to clean up the mess.

The least we can do is piss on their streets and you can, since you’re so concerned, run up to put your water bottle in place to protect your beloved land.”

Strangely he informs me that he and his ilk would be the first to defend me at the sign of trouble.

Those jerks who you claim are trouble-makers will be the first to back your sorry-ass up when some driver gives you problems or anyone else for that matter.”

Thanks, dude. But the day I need to rely on your kind to protect me is the day I never want to see.

Finally he wraps things up with how his kind roolz and our kind droolz and then throws down the gauntlet challenging me to confront the next litterskank I see on a ride:

At least some people are willing to show that they dont really give a fuck…most of you cats think you care and its usually a good laugh to hear you [sic] list your good-deeds.

I dare you to start shaming people…look, Judge Judy, put your robe in the closet and let people ride. Your recycled thoughts wont save anything.”

Well then… Needless to say, whoever this chickenshit is succeeded in getting my dander up and I believe the long-winded first draft of my reply could be boiled down to: fuuuuuuuuuuuuck yoooooooooooou!

I opted instead to just thank him for singing his strange little song:

Interesting point of view, N.I.C. Illogical, warped, anarchic, pathetic, and borderline sociopathic… but interesting. And thanks for the self-righteous “growing up in the city teaches me to be a D.I.C.” lesson. Ride on.”

It’s always disappointing when freaks like that come out of the woodwork and basically rant until they wet themselves about my point of view as if it has no merit, when they’re the ones that are meritless — and make fools of themselves proving it.
Thankfully I haven’t encountered his renegade cyclista element on any of the rides I’ve been on and I’m happy to keep it that way. Sure, I’ve had to dodge and avoid that strange contingent of overgrown manboys who ride BMX bikes (some of whom even sport bandanas covering their faces) and seem hellbent for havoc, but I’m just there to enjoy the ride. It’s not my goal to have to roll up on the N.I.C.s of the ride and narc at them about those Tall Boy cans they just chucked against the curb. Still, if it should ever happen I wouldn’t hesitate to, and I don’t need any punktard daring me to do so.