The People You Meet

There are plenty of people you meet on the road to San Diego. There are the well wishers, people who are just so amazed that you have dedicated your time to ride and want to tell you to watch out and be careful. There are the people who give you plenty of room on the roadway as if to say, don't worry biker, I won't kill you today. And then there are the fuckfaces. People who hold to the fact that they pay taxes and they own the road. The people who think so little of their power steering, that they can't possibly scoot their car to the left just a little so I don't feel the breeze of their side mirrors. And don't think that I don't notice you fuck face driver. You're not special and I can see you a mile away. So let me take a moment to describe: big oversized truck, maybe the naked man or woman on your mudflaps, raised but with no four wheel drive, the stench of stale beers and cigarettes, and what I am sure to see is a frail person who hides behind their truck to cover up the fact that their mom didn't like them enough to stay on the tit. Hell I bet some of them had their daddy take their little sister hunting instead of them. Dude, give up some road and turn your radio station to Dr. Phil to work out some anger.