You win, cowboy

You win, cowboy

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To the Editor:

This is for the young cowboy who drives eastward on South Road mornings between six and 6:30, speeding:

You will have noticed, perhaps, that I don’t go that way anymore. You win. A car always does, against a bicycle.

I admit I hollered at you the first time you passed me. You flew by about three feet away, doing 55, easily. It gave me a scare, and I thought you ought to know it, and so I yelled.

I should explain to you that I’m more sensitive than most cyclists. I was hit by a car a year and a half ago, badly injured, and fear has ridden with me ever since. (The driver was cited for reckless endangerment; I didn’t see him till the moment he plowed into me, as I did not always see you.)

Apparently you resented being yelled at, and the game was on. I don’t think there was ever more than four feet between us when you rocketed past. My yells and angry gestures only made things worse. Then you blew the horn, remember that? Again, I hadn’t heard you coming, and you were so close behind me, and the noise so sudden and loud, I thought an 18-wheeler was careering into me, out of control. I swerved right and almost fell.

You flew by, and then a derisive blast of the horn as you disappeared over the next hill. The victory was yours.

And so is South Road, as far as I’m concerned. Try not to hit anybody.

John Hough Jr.

West Tisbury

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