A Closet Biking Spitter Speaks
Okay, I have to let you know that I don’t think I come across as a vulgar, gross, or raunchy type of guy in my day to day life. Just wanted to set that straight before diving into a blog post all about spitting.
On a day to day basis, I don’t spit. I don’t spit out saliva, chewing tobacco, or mucus. I think I might have spit a little bit when I was a kid, but it’s been years since anything like that has come out of my mouth. In fact I find it a little gross if I see someone doing it in front of me. So if this is the case, why the heck do I feel the need to do it when I’m riding?
Am I alone? Come on now….I know I can’t be the only closet bike spitter out there. It’s a given fact that cyclists are going to spit…and quite often. Anyway, it’s not like I’m spitting into the rider next to me….I only seem to do it when I’m cycling alone. Okay, sometimes I’ve done it when along with other riders but I think I’ve been sneaky enough for them not to notice.
Spitting Games to Play While Riding
- Let one fly and see how strong the wind is. If it pretty much heads straight for the ground, it isn’t too windy. If it comes back and nails you in the eye, then you know you’re dealing with some serious headwind.
- Check your target practice by shooting at flowers, bugs, passing cars (just kidding).
- Go for distance and see how far you can place one.
As an interesting side note to this topic, I just had to share this story. As you know, I just recently got back from Belize and while I was there I saw quite a few Governmental signs with the letters GOB at the bottom. Stands for Government of Belize of course, but man, couldn’t they have come up with something that didn’t make you think of spit every time you see it?
When you spit from the twenty-sixth floor
And it floats on the breeze to the ground
Does it fall upon hats
Or on white persian cats
Or on heads, with a pitty-pat sound?
Oh, I used to think life was a bore
But I don’t feel that way any more
As I count up the hits,
As I smile as I sit,
As I spit from the twenty-sixth floor.
~ Shel Silverstein,Where the Sidewalk Ends
Photo c/o 3dpete