You might be a biker if.....redux

As the weather warms, and riding becomes more frequent, it is time for the yearly update on warning signs of being a serious biker.

For Spring 2008, the warning signs are:

You use your helmet as a hair-styling device.

The ends of your fingers are tanned, but the rest of your hand is fish belly white.

You think nothing of walking into public places dressed in tights like a super hero.

Your driving in your car, and you automatically lift up off the seat when going over a rough spot in the road.

You can give instantaneous directions to any corner in the city, but only for those using bike paths and public transportation.

Multi-ton cars and trucks are tearing along in front, alongside and coming up behind you... your pulse rate: 66, as long as there is a shoulder.

All of your normal pants have frayed cuffs and chain-grease marks.

You are polite to everyone, you blush at some rap songs, but you swear like a drunken sailor when a grandma in an SUV cuts you off.

You've been asked if you're a tap dancer.

Although you speak only English, you're perfectly capable of pronouncing all biking related terms in Italian, French, Spanish and possibly German.

The friend who was so happy to see you on his morning drive wonders why you gave him the finger when he honked.

When someone asks for advice on buying a bike, you either:

a) ask, "How many thousands do you want to spend?"

b) you respond with so many questions about intended use, riding style and TITS time, not to mention such personal questions as pubic bone height, and the distance between their pelvic/sits bones that you make buying a bicycle sound like rocket science and unintentionally put them off the idea.

When that same person reacts by saying, "It's only a bicycle," your jaw drops and your eyes bug out, and you're only half kidding.

A car goes by with two people (your preferred gender here)and carrying two bikes. Later, you can't recall their hair color or what make car was, but you can ID the bikes' make, model , color and possibly year of manufacture.

You have 3 bikes and you constantly peruse the latest bike catalogs because you absolutely “need” another bike.

You ride 50 miles, one way, with a twenty in your pocket and if you actually buy something, you consider leaving the change because of the weight.

You select a restaurant because of its charming, outdoor dining. Your bike is 23 inches away. You lock it anyway.

You consider the color of the bikes hanging from your ceiling when selecting home décor and biking gear.

You and your friends can recreate the "Jaws" scene where Quint, Brody, and Hooper compare scars, each with an even better story behind it, except yours go something like "This is from a 1990 Buick station wagon that turned left in front of me and put me over the hood."

Another cyclist asks you for the location of the nearest bike shop; you fix their bike on the spot.

You shop for your spring wardrobe at bike stores and online, rather than malls and clothing stores.

Your idea of surfing consists of drafting buses, minivans, and SUVs to keep up with the green wave.

You practice track stands and bunny hops in your spare time.

When actually driving, you stop at a red light and since no pedestrians are in the crosswalk you start to drive right through before you realize you are NOT on a bike, and slam on the brakes.

Similarly, when driving on the highway at 60 mph, you freak out at a 1-inch-wide groove in the pavement. What if your tires get stuck?

You know the location of all the major potholes on all of your favorite rides and you know all of the flagmen by name.

You check the weather report several times a day, even when you're not riding.