Erratic drivers sure put a sparkle in my morning.

On some days, I have been taking a route to work that utilizes one of the few proper bike lanes in the city. While it’s marked well, that does not mean that it is kept free of debris or respected as a lane. Motorists seem to believe they have the right to swerve into the bike lane in order to pass cars on the right. I have yet to see a police officer pull someone over for this nonsense.

As I got into a more congested area closer to downtown, where the bike lane oddly disappears (wouldn’t it make sense to have one here?), a craptastic loud car that I could have bought in cash weaves around me, pulls into my lane, and jams on the brakes. I expect drivers to do asinine things, so I had time to avoid the car. This meant, however, that I had to drive through — not over, but through — a dead rat. If you’re wondering, my superhero alter ego picked up the remnants of the rat and heaved it at the car. My actual self just cussed the guy out and kept going.

A few blocks later, I parked my bicycle and got a coffee and doughnut at a local shop. I graded a few papers and enjoyed the time to myself before heading off to work. When I was ready to go, a Real Hartford reader stopped to say hello. This would have normally been appreciated, but this morning, it was a distraction that ended with me absentmindedly putting my hand right on the front wheel, which still wore what looked like rat hairs. I’m writing about this because if I mysteriously come down with the rat flu, I want someone to know why.