Astride your motorcycle, circling the block of downtown condos, townhomes and apartment buildings, you are an attention-seeking jerk with your boots too tight and your leather jacket barely stretched across your beer gut. Or that’s how I picture you anyway.

It might be because of how you sound, with your constant engine-revving screech, spewing noise pollution, emitting carbon, burning fuel for no purpose other than to annoy and intimidate.

And while I’m thinking of it, get off my damn dating app with your loving photos of your motorcycle and promise of a boring conversation that would probably revolve around motorcycle maintenance. Nothing zen about it though.

Two hours later…

It’s almost midnight and again, you’re roaring down the one-way street like no one has to get up in the morning and you don’t care about anyone else but yourself. Your obsession with trying to prove you’re the king of ignorance is really getting on my nerves.

Backfiring, you move through the quiet like automatic gunfire, causing city-dwellers to wince and wish they were out-of-town. Wrecking the pleasant sounds of birds chirping, you belch out vehicular vitriol.

I’m fantasizing about tracking you down, at some second-rate bar no doubt, your motorcycle left unattended in front, and opening up that gas cap to introduce some water into the tank.

Enduring ignorance

Alas, that is not likely to actually happen, so I will have to continue to endure the summer’s roarfest of motorcycles and cars racing up and down our inner-city streets. The 40km/hour maximum speed limit is apparently beyond comprehension.

Speaking of speed limits, where are the police? Seriously though, this vehicular circus sideshow screaming out in exceedance of speed and sound limits needs to be shut down. The enforcers are nowhere to be seen.

Oh, how we wish the assholery would stop. But, the chances of that are not good because you are relentlessly, hopelessly ignorant and decency is not even on your radar.


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