Of Course...

I run about 5.5 miles a day, six days a week, in Provo’s Joaquin neighborhood. I’ve been doing it for almost 3 years now, and for the most part it’s pretty pleasant. However, one major drawback is how many large dogs are on the loose. I’ve been chased by German shepherds, pitbulls, and a variety of mean looking mutts. I don’t have a problem with dogs (though I generally prefer looking at them from a distance), but I’m always astonished at how many people just let their large, aggresive pets roam free (or who don’t take adequate measures to restrain these animals).

Anyway, about a month ago I was running up a street (right by the house I recently moved into, coincidentally) when an insane doberman pinscher ran out from a drive way and started chasing me. I was pretty terrified. Once I got a little way down the street the dog stopped, but I was once again left wondering what kind moron unleashes such a beast on the public. WTF.

Well, then a few days ago I was driving by the same house with Laura when she noticed a shirtless guy working on his bullet bike. Then she noticed a dog, and pointed it out to me. That’s when I realized it was the same dog.

Now, I’m sure there are lots of cool people who ride bullet bikes and like to show off their abs to the world. But generally, I have a negative association with both of these activities. Most of the people I have met who ride bullet bikes would best be described as pricks, and the guys who show off their abs to the unsuspecting public come off a douche bags to me. I’m not saying that everyone who enjoys these activities could be described this way, I’m just saying that my personal experience has brought me into contact with such people. Unfortunately.

So, as Laura and I passed we noted how fitting it would be, that such a person would also have a near-rabid assault dog that would be allowed to roam freely around the neighborhood. Of course, we thought, what a douche. Of course, this guy doesn't care about anyone because he lets his dog scare people, creates sound pollution with his crotch rocket, and implicitly gloats about how he must spend hours and hours at the gym. Of course.

Did we stereotype? Did we profile? Yes, of course. How could we have helped ourselves, when he fit so many stock features of an idiot.

This story has no uplifting moral — something like how we met the guy and he turned out to be really cool and then we learned to not judge others, or be nicer, or something. No, in my heart of hearts I still think the guy was just as lame as he seemed.