I have not been cycling much lately. I lost a bunch of weight earlier this year and got back into my real passion which is running. I pulled a hamstring yesterday trying to chase people that are half my age playing soccer in a local tournament. So it was back out on the bike for me this morning. My friends and I like to ride to Creemore have a coffee then ride back. There are two routes we take Fairgrounds Rd or Concession 6 which goes past the airport. Both of those roads have construction on them right now, so we re-routed up Highway 124, which also has construction on it but they seemed to have cleared everything out of the way for the weekend.
My friend and I were riding in single file back from Creemore on 124 on the hill going down to Duntroon. A maroon coloured Ford Escape pulled up beside us and the driver (a fellow in Carhartt overalls and in serious need of some major dental work) gave us a litany of f-bombs, c-bombs, b-bombs it was alphabet soup of various bombs. I must explain something to you, we were not half way across the road, we were as far to the right hand side of the road that we could possibly be. Leroy just didn’t want us to be on that road and in no uncertain terms wanted us to be aware of that fact.
We continued on our merry way through the lights at Duntroon, still in single file and around 500 metres past Duntroon a black and red truck, one of the ones with large wheels and the two chrome chimneys for exhausts sticking out of the bed of the truck, drove past leaning on his horn, his passenger gave us the one finger salute out the passenger window as he gunned his gas guzzling monstrosity towards Collingwood. Buck and Duane must have been related to the previously mentioned Leroy, because they seemed to share his intemperate disposition this morning.
I must say most of you drivers are respectful to us cyclists, even though you find us a bit of a pain in the arse. You generally give us plenty of space, slow down when you drive past us (as you swear under your breath about us) but you do share the road. Not sure what it is about rednecks though, maybe the thought of any exercise other than chopping wood, climbing trees or pulling/pushing those really big truck tires around is quite alien to them. So anyone riding a bicycle by choice needs to be shown the error of their ways. But the one constant when riding the back roads of Collingwood is, the honking, the swearing, the driving too close while gunning the engine 95% of the time is perpetrated by rednecks.
So one final message to all you Billy-Bob’s, Jed’s and Floyd’s out there: Please don’t be Road Hogs. I know it’s difficult when you have been up all night chewing tobacco, drinking uncle Buck’s moonshine and smoking Export Lights but us cyclists are human too and would appreciate the consideration.