Kicking myself

This past week was 270 kms of kicking myself that I left the camera at home so that my wife would be able to take baby shots at her leisure. I am not saying that my wife has a job on the side but that she always takes photos of the baby when the go to the park. The whole entire fricking week all I saw was knuckleheads doing their thing as they drove. Some of the more notables were:

1. The guy in the Porsche that was dogging me the entire hill climb into Sangenjaya. I bet there's nothing like the feeling a race before sitting in traffic for an hour. The intense speed, split second decisions and wheel sucking an over weight foreigner as he commutes to work on a rust bucket of a bicycle. The worst part about it was that when he eventually past me he was talking on his phone and rolled through a stale red light. I wish that I had had my camera so that I could've caught the moment on digi film to show my friends. "and this next shot is the douche that could have driven right by me but decided to stay close behind and rev his engine. Fucktard.

2. The white BMW driven by a tropical island castaway. I bet the guy loves the fact that he drives a BMW and I also wager that he has quite few things inside that add to that living room/head up my ass while driving ambiance. I bet he loves the inside of his car so much that he doesn't even know what colour the outside is or what side his gas cap is on. How can I be so sure you're wondering. Because anybody that can get in their car, start the engine and drive away down a crowded street without noticing that their front tyre is completely flat must have no idea about anything but the steering wheel and the search button on their dash mounted ipod. I knocked on the window several times and when his bucktoothed slug of a girlfriend finally acknowledged I pointed at the wheel and told them that it was flat. So shocked were that they both tried to look out the passenger window while driving. Another clue to how much of toad penis that the driver is. I even heard him exclaim "oh, that's why........".

3. Old man Bianchi. This guy is the best thing since steak sandwiches. I have seen him quite a bit since I started commuting by bike and he always has his signature darth vader gas mask on and multiple lights on his rig. One night we hustled from Shibuya to Komae and he laughed out loud when I intentionally scared some slow moving oblivious fixsters by blowing my whistle whilst approaching. I saw him the other day fixing a flat a sans mask and he must be in his forties at least. He is the kind of guy that the homeless theory sprung from because our chance meetings our cool but I wouldn't ask him to stop for a beer. After all he has does have too many lights for my liking.