By: Fredrick Venus

As I ride my bicycle through the streets of Bloomington, I see the faces of hundreds of students, faculty, and screaming homeless people. All of them with the same look on their faces as whiz by on my 10-speed:


How dare I, an intellectual with a penchant for physical exercise, use a bicycle as my primary mode of transportation. The shame that I should use my swollen muscles to pedal myself to class each and every day. How terrible it is to show off my ability to ride with no hands, gliding down Jordan Ave as I snap pictures of my gorgeous mountain bicycle, not a care in the world.

I laugh in your faces while you walk, the same way that I laugh in the face of traffic laws and basic human decency. None of you could handle the strain of biking to all of your classes, studying, and majoring in philosophy like I can. You’re all just douches, doomed to poison yourselves with alcohol and laze in your Ubers while I expand my mind and exercise my body biking the hill to Wells. I pity you all, truly I do. Walking around in the heat, sweat dripping from your faces as you stare at me, a man embracing the wind against his face and the car exhaust in his lungs.

But you scoff and say: “Barnaby, you caused a 3 car crash after you cut across Kirkwood ignoring oncoming traffic, how could you be better than us?”

It’s simple dear pedestrians: your polluting, loud, flashy cars are no match for the elegant, environmental simplicity of my Little 500 worthy bicycle. As all of you slowly meander to Ballantine, I will be conquering hills and traversing miles of campus in mere minutes because of my brilliant decision to use a bicycle.

So go ahead, laugh at me as I climb hills on low gear. Shake your head every time I cut across traffic so I can head straight to Red Mango without a second’s delay.

And when the day comes that I save enough money from not buying gas to afford a real car, I’ll see you fuckers out my Prius window.