Doored Again

While we’re making sure Iran doesn’t get nuclear weapons maybe we should consider not subsidizing Israel’s.

The last time i got doored was in July 2004, and it taught me enough of a lesson that i kinda figured i was now immune.  But no, as with many immunizations, this one gradually wore off.

More accurately, i discovered a different way of getting doored, under circumstances in which i’d thought i was safe.  See, the first dooring occurred when i was cruising along on a street without a bicycle lane and riding close enough to the parked cars that when one flung his door open i crashed into it.  So since then i’ve been real careful under those circumstances to keep a good three or four feet away from the parked cars.

And also, since then, more and more of San Francisco’s streets are featuring bike lanes that are positioned so that curbed cars don’t have enough wingspan to reach passing bicyclists in the bike lane, so you’re safe.

Well, unless an entitled asshole in so much of a rush to pick up some packages being brought to the curb pulls over only somewhat into the parking space, leaving a good three feet between him and the curb, and the driver’s side of his vehicle nestled about ten inches outside the bike lane.  And then pushes his door open at precisely the right moment to door me as i draw even with him.

As i lay there on the pavement, some excoriation ensued.

Which escalated when the first thing out of his mouth was a demand to see my drivers’ license.

And continued when he suggested that i get out of the street so as not to block traffic.

And reached its peak when i wanted to know why he had parked three feet from the curb and he responded that he hadn’t wanted to swing his front into the bike lane in order to parallel park.

I was pretty well spent by the time he observed that it was a good thing he hadn’t got the door fully open or i’d have bent it forward against the front quarter, but at least i had the presence of mind to observe that in that case my impact would have been cushioned.

As it was, by the time i’d stopped screaming abuse at him i’d discovered that i could stand up and that i hadn’t broken any bones.  Only later did it become apparent that i’d bruised a couple of ribs, so it only hurts when i laugh.

I’ve saved the greatest outrage until last:  The clueless fucker was driving a Prius, and you know how we hate those things.

Here he is:

Clueless fucker

And note how he parked:

Three feet from the curb and two feet outside the stripe.



This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.


  1. Rick C.
    Posted 27 June 2015 at 07:56 | Permalink

    As I was shaking my head over what an asshole this guy is, I asked myself “which comes first, the behavior or the attitude?” I think it’s the attitude of entitlement. A human being with an awareness that extends a bit wider than than a half-inch from their own skin would never have parked like that in the first place.

    • Matte Gray
      Posted 2 July 2015 at 09:23 | Permalink

      Oh yes, it’s all about entitlement. That guy was so utterly clueless that it took a good deal of my shrieked abuse before it finally sank in that he’d done anything wrong. When i was able to stand, he remarked that he was glad i wasn’t hurt, which evoked another torrent of outrage in which i pointed out that even though i was not bleeding from the eyes and could stand, this did not mean that i was uninjured. Alas, what i didn’t know at the time since everything else was hurting so much was that i’d bruised some ribs and would be facing weeks of pain from that.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.