Strangely enough, I find myself saying that phrase at least once a day. I'll be cruising along, enjoying the sunshine, trying to keep my cadence up... and then all of a sudden:
Please don't kill me.
The phrase itself only echoes in my head, but it echoes nonetheless. And I wonder if those who look me in the eyes while I make this plea understand the gravity of the situation. Three thousand pounds of metal and plastic against a dude on a bicycle.
One would think it's an easy concept. But yesterday morning, as I was biking to work, someone veered into the bike lane and came within inches of my left leg. I didn't even have time to offer my plea before getting run off the road. I came away unscathed, but I can't say it's the only time that it's happened, or even that it's a rare occurrence.
I ride my bike because my car is an old camaro and I can't afford a honda. I ride my bike because I don't want to be a hypocrite when I talk about dependence on foreign oil. If you drive, I won't hold it against you.
But please, don't kill me.
We'll both be much happier that way.