So, cyclist demon, can you explain why a cyclist would cut off a 100,000 lb transit bus with two inches to spare? Is this how cyclist demons exit the hell that spawned them for a better life in the sky?
I wish I was feeling funny enough today to write the transit-rider’s version of this little manifesto. I will say that there is no compensation for riding transit that is sweeter than whooshing past the parking lot of the regular lanes of I-405 coming into Seattle of a hot summer rush hour. The chief difference is that you could destroy the cyclist who plagues you by simply opening your door suddenly, but against the mighty transit bus, your practical Lexus SUV would fold like tinfoil (and I’ve seen it happen, bwah-ha-ha).