As I rode on the bike lane to the park a man in a blue business suit pulled out in front of me and proceeded to ride just a little bit slower than I was. Why, you might ask yourself, would a man obviously on his way to work and not anxious to work up a sweat purposely dash out to ride in front of someone just as obviously out to ride fast?
There's just something about the male Italian ego that doesn't let them follow a woman. And God forbid she should actually pass him. Knowing this as I well do I decided to play a little bit with his mind and fragile ego.
I rode at his speed and about one meter behind him. Not enough to actually threaten him with being passed, but close enough to let him know that he was leading only because I allowed him to. Every ten seconds he threw a look over his shoulder to see if I was still there. I maintained a Mona Lisa-like smile which I'm pretty sure drove him just a little more crazy.
When he finally turned off the lane onto a side street he was sweating, not from the ride but from the stress of wondering if I would pass and when I would pass and if anyone would see it happen. His shoulders relaxed and he rode a little more slowly. It was way too much fun. I should find him tomorrow and apologize, but only after I follow him all the way to his turnoff. I'm becoming positively evil.
In other news...someone found my blog using the keywords "looking for a hello kitty fax machine" and read my post in which I totally dump on Hello Kitty. I'm guessing they were just a tad disappointed.