Consider yourself forewarned: I'm about to get on my self-righteous, bloggy high-horse (yes, more than usual).
So, since Saturday (weekend before last) was so stupid gorgeous outside, I took my new bike out for a spin around the Slope. I haven't owned a bike that actually worked properly in a few years, so this is the first time I was able to really ride around here. Since then I've had every intention to shoot off my mouth about how there's no way you can truly understand how insanely important a bike lane is until you've actually BEEN on the roads and had to avoid the fucks who idle in the dedicated 9th Street lane. Which, of course, is still totally true. But last Thursday night around 11, I heard a huge crashing sound outside of my window, popped my head out, and saw a biker on the ground, his front tire lodged under a pickup truck. And not two seconds after I opened my window and yelled down to see if he was okay, the truck fucking sped away.