Que pasa? Lowriding across enemy lines

Lots of cyclists -- especially those who don't regularly commute and therefore have funny ideas about entitlement -- help stir up the pot of vehicular aggression by just generally acting like self-righteous assholes on the highways and biways and bike paths of America.




And, you know, I'm pointing four fingers back at myself here. I've done it too. Once while I was standing at the corner of 50th and Minnehaha waiting my turn and losing my patience, a carload of punk kids poured a Big Gulp of Sprite over my head. I caught them at the next stop light, and -- I'm ashamed to admit -- went a bit Medieval on their car with the empty soda bottle. They had to pull out of line, blow the light and squeal their tires to get away from the crazy red-faced middle-aged guy screaming every word in the book. That week, I gave myself a break from intervals, and y'know tried to reexamine my priorities.



Anyway, there is one particular subulcha in America that actually celebrates cars and bicycles at the same time and in the same way, together, and that's the nifty Latino tradition of lowriders and chopped out bikes. Yesterday in Phoenix, for example, the Dia de Guadalupe and Lowrider Car Show featured significant contributions from the kids and their superpimp Stingrays.