Stupid bikers

I wonder how long it will be before I cuss out a biker.

When I move back to Mom and Dad's, and then to the unbuilt house, I will be right near a bike trail. It is awesome to walk Claren on. It is wide, flat, mostly smooth.

In the past five days, I have walked three miles on the trail and been passed by lots of bikers. One has given me warning that he was passing me.

It's not like it wouldn't be better for them, too. I do not really walk a straight line, especially with the mid-wheel drive chair. I tend to wheel one way, then the other, and Claren moves with me. If I happen to roll to the side the bikers are zooming past on, then they are going to get hurt. I mean, I will, too, and Claren, so it isn't something I will try to do.

This evening I loudly thanked the biker who told me he was passing; I quietly called the biker who surged by an asshole. Who knows when I will speak up?