The Boom Box Biker

My apartment resides directly across the street from a park. When the weather's nice, I try to take advantage and go out for a run. It's usually a great way to reflect and clear my head.

This time, however, my experience was different. It was disturbing.

As usual, I was jogging along the path and everything had started off well enough. The sun was shining, my blood was flowin', and life was good.

I was doing my thing, caught up in my thoughts and some good music. Totally in the zone.

... And then it happened.

Suddenly, the mood was shattered by a loud and grating noise.

I turned around to witness a George Costanza-like figure wearing an 80's jump suit, gliding forward on his bicycle. Attached to him, on a backpack, was one of those old school boom boxes and he was showing absolutely no mercy on the volume!

This was some TERRIBLE music! I'm talking straight up offensive... You should have seen the poor souls trailing directly behind him. They tried their best but it was impossible to ignore the BB's presence. Their facial expressions said it all. It were as if they were trapped in a closet with a stale fart lingering in the air!

There appeared to be no escape. Like clockwork, The Boom Box Biker had an inordinate knack for adjusting his pace to match our every move.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I had to pull off to the side until the offender had passed. What was this dude's problem? Headphones, my man... head phones.

We could all learn from The Boom Box Biker. Everyone has different tastes and you gotta do what makes you happy. Hopefully just not at the expense of others. That's Sprezzatura.