Before I started writing this post, I took a deep dive into ENTITLED. 

I wanted to make sure I had a full grasp of its meaning. 

Is it the right word for what I experience? 

Is it the right word for the way I understand it? 

Is my understanding of the word different from what it means? 

No. 

It is the right word. 

It is exactly the right word. 

I ride on my own. 

100% SOLO. 

I am my own observer. 

I am on my own to have as much fun with things as I want. 

I am on my own to ride with manners. 

I am on my own to ride with respect. 

I am an audience member of one. 

I am my own best fan. 

I would have it no other way. 

I have nicknames for certain riders I see. 

I name my rides with funny names. 

I have my own visuals, which I look for. 

My private places to train. 

There is one thing I enjoy. 

I do not look for it. 

I could not do that. 

I let it come to me. 

But the problem is that it is a ‘Catch-22.’ 

I don’t want it to come to me. 

But it does. 

The ENTITLED Cyclists. 

I know you can picture them. 

They all look the same. 

Their bikes all make the same noise. 

They travel in packs. 

The ones that think nothing of turning in front of you. 

Think nothing of riding to the front of the line at a red light. 

The ones that will move into your lane to pass someone else. 

The ones that will not acknowledge a car that went out of their way to stop and let them cross. 

The ones that will ride four across the path. 

Or three across a road. 

I am not on patrol. 

I am not an ‘Officer.’ 

‘Whatever will be, will be,’ is my attitude towards cyclists. 

Except for ONE.

‘THEM’

The ENTITLED Cyclists. 

I do not let ENTITLED Cyclists be ETITLED Cyclists. 

I enjoy letting the ENTITLED Cyclists know what they did was wrong. 

Somebody has to. 

I let them know it was wrong, without saying a word. 

I was on a ride today. 

Six guys coming from the opposite direction, turned right in front of me. 

It was bad. 

Not one apologized, looked, or said excuse me. 

So, I did my ‘thing.’ 

You see, the ENTITLED Cyclists talk the talk but they do not walk the walk. 

They are easy to catch. 

I turned around and followed them, keeping a distance so that they would not know I was behind. 

I waited for a good clearing. 

I wanted to make sure that when I rode past each one of them, I was gliding. 

So, I begin. 

I pick it up a bit, then switch to a glide. 

A stand-up glide. 

I glide by the first guy and stare at him. 

I glide by the second guy and stare at him. 

I glide by the third guy and stare at him. 

I do this until I am at the front guy. 

I pass him, gliding, and stare at him, then cut right in front of him. 

Here is the best part. 

When I am now in front of them all gliding, and still standing on my pedals, I pick my underwear out of the crack of my ass. 

Then I calmly sit down and begin to pedal again. 

Then I am gone. 

They will try to catch me, but they cannot. 

Let that one sink in for a while. 

I cannot begin to explain how satisfying it is. 

Haha, this is just one thing I do. 

I have so many more. 

I have some beauties. 

I should make this a series. 

I think I will. 

But you know? 

They deserve it. 

And I know they think I am a total whack job, freak, asshole, and a prick. 

But a whack job, freak, asshole, and a prick who brought them down a few notches without uttering a word. 

Okay, try it one day. 

OMG it is so satisfying. 

‘ENTITLED’ 

Insert middle finger emoji here. 

‘There is another way to ride.’