I got stuck behind a motorcycle today on the backroads of Monmouth county. Not 'stuck' as in, he was driving too slow and I was annoyed; 'stuck' as in, this f'ing moron is going to die on the road here and I'll have to explain it to the 4-yr-old in the back seat.
It was raining most of the day in Central NJ, so the roads were wet. Moron Cyclist was wearing a brain-bucket helmet, sunglasses, t-shirt, shorts and - I kid you not- sandals. He had big, stupid chopper handlebars that he couldn't seem to keep both hands on. Must be uncomfortable to have your arms so high up that you have no control of your bike. He must have spent 70% of the time I was stuck with his left arm hanging down. I have to admit, to pass the truck on the double yellow at the blind curve- he put his hands on the handlebars then.
But he needed his hands to signal, since the bike had no directional lights.
He was speeding like crazy, but you guessed that.
I lost him in Englishtown, luckily. I was keeping a big distance because when this idiot went down, I wanted to have enough room to drive around the body. He got away from us by pulling into traffic and we lost him. I wonder if he got home at all, or if he's a road stain that gets written up in the Home-News Tribune tomorrow. (That would be an example of evolution, not intelligent design.)