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Damn You, Gas Prices

I know I'm supposed to be all "Mr. Supply and Demand," and therefore impervious to gas price fluctuations, but I have finally reached my tipping point. Apparently, the road I use to get home from work has turned into the Tour de France with everyone now riding their bike. I had to drive 20 miles an hour the whole way while the Spandex Mafia hogged the road. This is simply unacceptable.

Generally, I live by the following rule: if you live close enough to your office that you can ride your bike to it, you're saving like three bucks a week by not driving. I will pay you three dollars (no matter what the street value) to stay out of the middle of the road on your bike, chatting it up with some woman who you're trying to fool into thinking you're an avid rider. If you refuse my offer, I will continue to furiously shake my fist at you from the comfort of my Ford Escape.

In the mean time, I will try to think of what a "Mr. Supply and Demand" mascot would actually look like.