"Oil!"- you barked commandingly at me as you passed me on Williams in your orange cyber-biker spandex outfit. I didn't realize so much moralistic opprobrium could be wrapped up in how I take care of my own fucking bike. Yes, I know my chain is rusted and my gears are grinding and dry- if it bothers you so much, are you gonna pay for the oil? Time for sanctimonious yuppie dorks like you and your faux-activist friends to realize that biking to work is not an ethical crusade. Mind your own fucking gentrification or go back to Seattle where you belong.
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