Bike Attitude Quotes

Try to roll with the punches. Keep your chin up. Don’t take any wooden nickels. Vote Democrat in every election. Ride your bike in the park. Dream about my perfect, golden body. Take your vitamins. Drink eight glasses of water a day. Pull for the Mets. Watch a lot of movies. Don’t work too hard at your job. Take a trip to Paris with me. Come to the hospital when Rachel has her baby and hold my grandchild in your arms. Brush your teeth after every meal. Don’t cross the street on a red light. Defend the little guy. Stick up for yourself. Remember how beautiful you are. Remember how much I love you. Drink one Scotch on the rocks every day. Breathe deeply. Keep your eyes open. Stay away from fatty foods. Sleep the sleep of the just. Remember how much I love you.

I don’t like working with people I don’t know. (Randy) Hmmm, let’s see…I cried when Ole Yeller died, but I was young back then. I have a scar on my knee from when Willie Durante knocked me off my bike when I was seven. I beat the shit out of him later, then took his bike and sold it at a pawnshop. Oh, and my favorite color is pink…it’s really soothing. (Steele)

A universal truth of bicycling is this - pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.

I had to ride slow because I was taking my guerrilla route, the one I follow when I assume that everyone in a car is out to get me. My nighttime attitude is, anyone can run you down and get away with it. Why give some drunk the chance to plaster me against a car? That's why I don't even own a bike light, or one of those godawful reflective suits. Because if you've put yourself in a position where someone has to see you in order for you to be safe--to see you, and to give a fuck--you've already blown it... We had a nice ride through the darkness. On those bikes we were weak and vulnerable, but invisible, elusive, aware of everything within a two-block radius.

learning how to ride your bike? Well, persistence and sheer repetition, certainly. You were going to stick with it no matter how long it took! It also helped that you were enthusiastic about what you set out to achieve—that you could hardly wait to reach your goal. And finally, let’s not underestimate the impact of positive encouragement. You always knew your parents were in your corner, supporting you, rooting for your success.

We were stereotyped the way many athletes with disabilities or illnesses are, particularly in participatory sports such as biking, running, and triathlon. After a while I could pretty much fill in the thought balloons over these people's heads. "Oh, look at these heroic young people, courageously struggling to get themselves across the finish line, in order to raise money for thier cause. How inspiring!" Don't get me wrong; while we appreciate the good wishes and realized that they were usually genuine, something in that attitude rankled me, and still does. We're athletes, dammit, and we want to be accorded the same respect as other competitors. That's how you treat somebody with illness or disability, in my opinion. Not as a special-needs person, but as a person.

attitude.

I park my bike in her driveway and ring her doorbell. I clear my throat so I don’t choke on my words. Mierda, what am I gonna say to her? And why am I feeling all insecure, like I need to impress her because she’ll judge me? Nobody answers. I ring again. Where’s a servant or butler to answer the door when you need one? Just as I’m about to give up and slap myself with a big dose of what-the-fuck-do-I-think-I’m-doing, the door opens. Standing before me is an older version of Brittany. Obviously her mom. When she takes one look at me, her disappointing sneer is obvious. “Can I help you?” she asks with an attitude. I sense either she expects me to be part of the gardening crew or someone going door-to-door harassing people. “We have a ‘no soliciting policy’ in this neighborhood.” “I’m, uh, not here to solicit anythin’. My name’s Alex. I just wanted to know if Brittany was, uh, at home?” Oh, great. Now I’m mumbling uh’s every two seconds.

Say what you will about Lance Armstrong—I think he did whatever everybody else in his sport was doing, and that it shouldn’t tarnish his accomplishments on a bike—but what is undeniable is that here was a world-class athlete who got cancer in his brain and in his nutsack. And he basically said, “Screw that. I’m getting off this table.” I dig that. I played sports all my life and I dig that attitude. Okay, you’re hurting? Get up anyway.

I managed to find a small spot to squeeze my bike's handlebars in between a few other fast-looking machines. As I set my helmet and shoes in position for a quick getaway, one of my new neighbors stepped up. He introduced himself and asked me how I thought I would do in the race. Not a standard question, I thought. I told him I just wanted to finish and end the race with a smile. He was not impressed.

their attitude. Crouch down to their level, both literally and figuratively, and see the sights through the eyes of your young. You’ll see things you would otherwise miss.

If you happen to be out at night on the bike path without a light, ring your bell constantly. No bell? Then sing "Hotel Yorba" on a continuous loop, loud enough to warn the unseen.

You never know with dogs. My dog lives with bikes and riders, and still barks like crazy at bike riders. It's our family's shame. I tell her: "Every bite of food you eat, everything good that comes your way, is because of bikes, so no bark!" But she can't help herself; she's a terrier.

I don't encourage blasting through stop signs or riding like an idiot. I want to make that clear. But given the number of riders (and idiots) out there, there are bound to be some who ride that way and, yes, anger drivers. But they also keep drivers on their toes - here comes another cyclist; I wonder if he's as oblivious and suicidal as the last one...