I Hate Motorcycles

When I first moved to LA and took that long trek to the DMV, I was forced to take another written test. I wondered at the time why there were so many questions on it about motorcycles. I mean, sure, you need to know about motorcycles, but they make up such a small portion of the vehicles on the road and were disproportionately represented on the test.

And then I started making my daily commute. And I began to realize just how much I truly, deeply, passionately hate motorcycles. Or rather the dicks that ride on motorcycles. Before I launch into this tirade, let me preface this by saying that I'm not talking about those who ride leisurely on Harley Davidsons on weekends. I'm talking about crotchrockets and the like, and the a-holes who ride them on a daily basis.

For those of you who don't live in a mild or warm climate and don't have to deal with an abundance of motorcyclists, this will probably be as new to you as it was to me. Here's the deal: Motorcycles here weave in between the cars in their lanes to get by. And by weaving, I don't mean they pass and get into a lane. I mean, they literally drive in the small space between you and another car. So if I opened my door, it would most certainly mean death to them.

Not only is this illegal, but it's rampant. And annoying. You're sitting there listening to your music in rush hour traffic, going 10 miles per hour and WHOOSH! A motorcycle rushes by and does the land equivalent to buzzing the tower. It's loud. It's dangerous. And it's aggrevating as hell. If I'm stuck going 10 miles per hour, you shouldn't be able to go 60 mph illegally.

And that's why I hate motorcycles.