Tag Archives: Dickheads

Marv’s bogan ute revenge fantasy

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Dear Rouleurs,

Over the last couple of months I’ve been harbouring feelings of ill will towards tradies.  Presumably, they are all male, driving at breakneck speeds early in the morning in utes, vans and 4WDs along my local ride, early in the morning.  Whilst MMT realises that every working ‘person’…(let’s see if I’ve hit the right tone of political correctness ;-)…has an obligation to arrive at work on time, he wonders whether it is necessary to speed at 20 or 30 km/h above the speed limit to get there.  As there is  no police presence  at that time of the morning they get away with it, almost every single time.

So I’ve been harbouring feelings of ill which had started to develop into a full blown revenge fantasy.  It involves a bit of tweaking to a scene from ‘Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story’.  The scene involves the aging, wheelchair-bound Patches, who volunteers to coach the Average Joes dodgeball team.  Patches’ training regimen includes throwing wrenches at the team members (“If you can dodge a wrench you can dodge a ball!”).

I imagine riding along, pulling a wrench out of my jersey pocket and throwing through the back window of a ute that has just illegally sped by.  The wrench shatters the back window and hits the bogan dickhead in the back of the head with a satisfying ‘thwok’.  Yes its a bit juvenile and cartoon-ish in a Super Mario way, but goddamnit it brings an evil smile to my face every time.

Revenge fantasies never come true, which is probably best for the continued existence of our society.  In reality, the chances of MMT throwing a spanner that accurately at a speeding ute is pretty much zero.  Its much more likely MMT would overbalance and donate a lot of skin and possibly bone to the ashpalt.   Then one day coming back from Truman on a coffee run, I saw this and laughed my ass off.

Somewhere near Albert Park a dickhead bogan is crying in his beer over his wheel clamped ute :-)

Somewhere near Albert Park a dickhead bogan is crying in his beer over his wheel clamped ute 🙂

This is poetry and karma  sweetly connected in the form of a wheel clamp.  I would have loved to have seen the face of the dickhead bogan ute owner, just after he discovered this.  Just to be clear the Sherrif’s Department has the right to do this, under the Infringements Act 2006, when a vehicle owner has an outstanding infringement warrant…possibly for something like not paying speeding fines 😉

So here’s to karma, ride safe in the knowledge that there is one less dickhead on the road.

Marv

Cycle Path Etiquette, Road Rage and Bogans in Utes – Take 2

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Dear Rouleurs,

MMT is not above pinching other people’s blogs, cartoons or infographics.  Particularly, if this means poking fun at the permanently attention challenged Gen Y/Millennials.  Last year I found a funny little cartoon in a Time Australia magazine.  I took a copy of it and had intended to “re-purpose” it here in this blog.  Up until last week, I had forgotten about it.  As per usual MMT was looking for something else, when I stumbled upon this little gem.  About 15 mins later I had my “re-purposed” marvtoon.  Volia….!!!

Reworked Cartoon from Time Magazine, July 2015

Reworked Cartoon from Time Magazine, July 2015

You can see the before and after versions.  Adding a little cyclist and ute driver were the missing pieces. So once again I dedicate this marvtoon to the dickhead bogan ute driver and offer  ‘Vaffanculo!!!’ with the appropriate hand gesture. Apologies to John Atkinson 😉

Until next time,

Marv

Cycle Path Etiquette, Road Rage and Bogans in Utes

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Dear Rouleurs,

I’m a bit fired up at the moment. Let me explain.  Last Sunday evening I’m out for an early evening ride.  The weather was atrocious in the morning and sleeping in with my 7 month pregnant wife seemed like a much better idea.  Usually I ride in early in the morning, in the hope of missing traffic and pedestrians who like to use traffic lights.  I’ll have to write about that pet peeve in different blog.

Sunday is different, the weather is still and humid, actually quite good conditions ignoring the surface water still on the road.  I zip out about 4.30pm-ish.  I’ve had one too many caffeinated drinks and I can feel a headache coming on.  I won’t sleep unless I metabolize the caffeine.  So I do short ride down to the Brighton Seabaths.  There’s a bit more traffic round than I would like but I’m careful.

I’m almost home when I have to start slowing down.  The segment of the bike path that starts opposite The Pier Hotel and ends near the Beacon Cove tram stop is always populated by less than attentive pedestrians who just wander aimlessly oblivious to the speeding cyclists who should have right of way on a dedicated path. This evening is no different.

A family of 2 adults and 2 little kids are about to cross the path.  They haven’t seen me.  I don’t know why, I have 2 Moon 300 lumen flashing lights on my bike.  I slow right down.  They eventually notice me, stop and let me through on the path.  Sadly this kind of courtesy on the path is not the norm. I say ‘thanks’ to guy and I receive a friendly nod in return.

About 30 seconds later I experience the more common treatment that cyclists receive.  I’m moving on the road and trying to get around this enormous oil truck queuing for the Spirit of Tasmania.  I then hear ‘Mate, get off the f%#king middle of road’.  I move round the truck, head towards the pedestrian crossing.  I turn around and see a blue Ford ute with a dog house and mattress strapped down on the back.  Another stream of abuse comes from the ute.

I’ve red misted and flipped these bogans the bird.  Unsurprisingly its returned, by male bogan passenger, presumably the original loudmouth and a bottle blonde female bogan. I’m seriously tempted to follow them and give them a real blast. Then the red mist clears and I realise that I’m better than that. I ride home wanting to punch someone or something.

A few days later, I’m still pretty angry, hence this blog.  That was just plain unnecessary considering its a 20 Km/h zone and all these idiots were doing was queuing to get on the Spirit of Tasmania.   Which brings me to my therapy.  To the loud mouth dickhead in the ute – ‘Mate, was dog house for you or the blonde rottweiler driving the ute?’

Given that the Giro is on and that there is no chance that you understand Italian ‘Vaffanculo!!!’ with appropriate hand gesture.

Until next time, ride safe and avoid ute-driving bogans

Marv