Fat Biker: A hill grows in Gilbert
In the flat land, a bike overpass is king. Gilbert Az just crowned it’s new “bridge” for bikes and people over the railroad tracks just west of “downtown.”
Fat Biker: Fatter Biker
I never thought it would happen to me. Riding on the flat dirt path next to a canal, I got passed — by an even fatter biker.
Fat Biker: The Wire
“I bought this bike, so I could ride it. I don’t want to learn how to fix it.”
Fat Biker: ducks are dicks
Ducks should run like chickens. But not the fucking gaggle on the Western Canal bike path south of Baseline Road in Mesa, Az.
Fat Biker: Screwed — updated
I was as happy as a school girl on heroin pedaling through a residential neighborhood in San Diego — when I got screwed. Hundreds of times. That’s how many drywall screws were lying about the bike lane pointing every which way. Gray screws against gray pavement. Almost impossible […]
Fat Biker: Fast Runner
One of the few joys of road biking is dominating the bike lane — easily passing runners, beach cruisers and mountain bikes.
Fat Biker: fear the fart
I’ve spent thousands on a good bike. Hundreds on shoes and clothes. I spent $1.29 on a snickers bar that fucked up a perfectly good ride.
Fat Biker: Rim jobs
Fat Bikers are hell on wheels.
Fat Biker: Narrow Paths
For years I wished the town of Gilbert would pave the canal path from Guadalupe to Warner Road. Sometimes it’s better for wishes not to come true.
Fat Biker: Bugs
How can you spot a happy bikers? Count the bugs in their teeth.
I know that’s an old terrible joke… but it sort of applies to bicycles too. I’ve swallowed my share of “free protein” — especially riding at night.
Fat Biker: Attack of the Asthma
For more than half a century I took breathing for granted. Sure I would get out of breath on a mountain climb or a sprint, but then… hit 55 years old and dun, dun, dunnnn: exercise-induced asthma.
Fat Biker: Here’s Sweat in Your Eye
Ohh God it burns, when these little balls of salty sweat roll or drop right into the corner of your eyes.
It doesn’t happen every ride. Sometimes it happens when it hot, sometimes when it’s not.
Fat Biker: Animal Control
Being a fat biker (pedaling not Harley) with no pigment leaves me little choice. I have to ride at night or risk Satan’s kisses (sunburn all over).
I’m a night person anyway. I put on two motorcycle power headlights, a flashing red tail light and head out once the sun turned off.
Fat Biker: Wheel Suckers
Most cyclists are your basic MAMIL’s (middle-aged men in lycra) — you know harmless, masochistic skinny fucks who enjoy burning muscle pain and oxygen deprivation.
But occasionally out of a pack of MAMIL’s, one douchebag will pop up like burnt toast. There’s a few different types of douches, but the worst is the wheel-sucker.
Fat Biker: Lazy Landscapers
It’s been 30 years of political battles to get cities to build bike lanes. And then the god damn cyclists ride right next to the white line.
