Bob Levey
Washington Post, August 5, 1988
When I'm walking to the subway, I tend to lower my head and barrel,like a running back blasting through the secondary. That's not meant tobe self-flattery. It's meant to suggest that when I'm Metro-bound, my strideis purposeful, my gaze straight ahead. Little jars my concentration.
Except a voice from my left that asks, "Hey, wait a minute, man.Aren't you Bob Levey?"
I whirl. The first thing I see is a dusty black bicycle. The secondthing I see is the guy aboard it.
He has a walkie-talkie strapped around his waist. His legs are encasedin raspberry-colored Spandex briefs. He's sporting a biker cap, with thebill flipped up. He's a bike messenger, obviously -- and I'm in for a lecture,even more obviously.
My disdain for bike messengers is long established -- and if you wonderwhy, you must not ever venture forth on downtown streets.
These buzzards buzz you. They curse you. They smash into you when youhave the right of way -- and they don't even say they're sorry, much lesshelp you clean up the blood. They are a public menace. They should be kickedout of downtown forever.
Of course, messengers have read Levey's columns in which he has saidall this and more. They have not been pleased.
Several have invited me to duke it out in the middle of K Street. Stillothers have threatened to run me down on the sidewalk.
One guy even hit me in the sorest of all my sore spots. "We knowwho you are," said this messenger, who sounded a little like PeterLorre in "The Maltese Falcon." "Your gray hair makes youea-a-a-a-sy to spot."
So when the messenger astride the bike asked if I was Bob Levey, I brieflyconsidered claiming to be his brother George. But in the columnizing business,you face the music.
"Yeah, I'm Bob Levey."
"How come you haven't written about bike messengers lately?"
"No particular reason. Maybe you guys have started behaving yourselves.But that might be too much to hope for."
"I don't think it is, Bob," said the messenger. "I thinkthe people in this profession have been listening. I think a lot of whatyou've been saying has sunk in. I'm seeing a lot more messengers beinga lot more careful. I think you've done some good."
You could have knocked me over with a feather, gray hair and all.
I thanked the messenger, said goodbye and resumed barreling toward theMetro. Bike messengers riding more safely? That may be a little premature.But if one messenger thinks there has been progress, others must, too.That way lies hope.
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