It still amazes me how ordinary people seem to have nothing better to do with their time than memorize the vagaries of the law. Case in point, I rode my bike down to the beach and back last night. Since traffic was a bit heavy and I didn't want to be sandwiched between a line of parked cars and a steady stream of BMWs, I rode on the expansive and mostly empty sidewalk for part of my trip. As I was nearing the end of my trip, I was a bit tired (see previous entries on being out of shape) and about to attack a hill on Wilshire Boulevard.

Just before the hill, I was accosted by an old man and his cane. The old man shook his cane at me and said, "Riding on the sidewalk is a criminal offense! Get into the street!" Since I was concentrating more on the impending hill, I said "thanks" and rode on. Of course, from behind me as I rode on, I heard "Hey!" and then finally "HEY!!!!" as if deigning to ignore his dictates would cause him to have a coronary. At that moment, I swore that his one word carried the entire message of "I'm going to write a letter to the editor of our local paper and go crusading in front of the City Council to stop the likes of you!"

Basically, my stance was this: I wasn't too pleased about the prospect of riding in traffic, and since there was plenty of room on the sidewalk and it was sparsely populated, that's where I was going to be for my own safety. Plus, if the cops were really concerned and it really was a criminal offense, chances are that one of the three police officers I rode past while I was on the sidewalk would've stopped me to tell me about this law.

So I rode on. And oddly enough, I arrived home at the same time as the Roommate.

In other news, yes, it's true, Virginia: The White Stripes are a divorced couple, not brother and sister.