I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly scary person. And you, gentle reader, probably know me enough to know that I’m better described by a lot of other words. Some such words are more complimentary than others, but still, “scary” probably isn’t one that would first come to your mind.
Yet that’s how I came across to someone this weekend. I was out riding my bicycle through the mean streets of San Mateo, just kind of exploring around, seeing where bike trails go, etc. It was a beautiful and blissful day, and I decided to do a lap around a playground and community pool that I’d come across.
For a public park on a sunny Sunday, it was quite empty. On the playground were two kids, their parents at a picnic table not too far away. I was just kind of pedaling slowly, not even really looking at them, and of course doing nothing threatening. But as I passed on the bike path about 15 feet from them, the girl stated to the boy:
“That guy is scary.”
I’m quite sure her fear didn’t stem from my bicycle-related attire. Nope, I’m pretty sure that this pronouncement was thanks to the Copycat Luke Littell Biker Mustache that I’ve been cultivating.
Now if only I could scare the kid neighbors’ bratty-ass friends away in the same manner…