Sunday, November 9, 2008
one for Ed, one for Tibbi...
Today I was driving down Towne and a cyclist was intentionally f*cking with the cars -- riding a snake-like pattern, veering into the center of the lane as a car approached and then out to the side, back and forth. At first I thought he was just trying to keep cars away from him, claiming the lane, but then I noticed that he was flipping off each car that passed him.
One of our neighbors has a story about yelling "Moron!" at a driver who menaced him while he was cycling: the driver stopped the car, got out, and punched him in the jaw. I would not be a bit surprised if this happened to the Sidewinder Cyclist after I drove past (in the far lane from him, escaping his attention).
A pal of ours is a pollster and sent me the following numbers for Pomona on Prop. 8: 17,820 in favor, 11,177 opposed. Sad but true.
In other news (or not-news, really), we headed down to dba256 last night for a drink before supper. We spotted Dave Allen, but he looked deep in conversation, so we didn't bother him. Then who should wander up but our own John Clifford. As the three of us chatted on a couch, a couple of other Pomona Heritage members came by and joined us. The five of us talked so long, Mix Bowl was the only place open when we finally turned our attention to supper.
That, I must say, is the dictionary definition of the "local," English style -- the pub where you stumble in for a drop to cure what ails you and end up meeting half your neighbors. I haven't had a local since they closed the Salty Dog Saloon for my going away party in 1988, putting a sign up on the door saying "We're at Meg's -- if you know where that is, you're invited."