DIE, BULLET-BIKERS, DIE!!!

Here's the epitome of awful: On the freeway the other day, I saw a young 20-something bullet-biker, and it reminded me of some other 20-something crotch-rocket-owners I saw a few months back. All of whom I was eagerly awaiting imminent death.

You see, we were on the way to the airport, family in the car, when we came upon a group of about half a dozen kids ranging from 18 - 25, I'd guess, riding bullet bikes, crotch rockets...call 'em whatever you want. Anyway, this troop of idiots was zooming down the freeway at somewhere between 75 and 100 miles an hour - EASY - and at those speeds they were whizzing in and out of traffic, popping wheelies, riding on their back wheels with their bikes completely vertical, all the while endangering everyone on the road. Screw the fact that they were endangering themselves. We had kids in the car.

So this is where the Bad Mommy comes through: here I was, watching these freaky fools with a mob-mentality death wish, and I thought to myself, "oooh! I'm about to see someone get snuffed!!!" Suddenly I was waiting with bated breath to see them slice sideways, smack pavement, and be torn to shreds...possibly even winding up under the wheels of some passing semi. And there we'd be, watching it happen, pulling over to help with the police report condemning the stupidity of the damned to official personnel.

I guess, in my (pathetic) defense, I didn't really want them dead...or even to see them die. I just wanted an immediate, swift penalty (or at least a consequence!) for their actions. It didn't have to be death...but that sure would've been interesting. And well-deserved on account of their own actions. Bad, Naughty Mommy comes through once again...