This shout-out goes out to the so-called “man” who tried to punch me or pretend to punch me as I rode my bicycle down South Kihei Road today.

Maybe I haven’t led the cleanest life. I’ve killed geckos (See earlier blog), made girlfriends cry and rigged my high school winter carnival election so my best friend could be on the royalty court (He still doesn‘t know what we did. Shh, please.).

I was riding against traffic this afternoon and standing up as I looked for an opportunity to cross the street, so I wouldn't be against the flow.

Maybe I somehow deserved to wipe out, twist my ankle and snap off a toe nail (useless anyway) after you took a swipe at me and laughed heartily as you hung from a safe distance out the window of a white pickup truck. If I hadn’t have taken that quick turn, I would probably would have fallen into the oncoming traffic (Boo hoo, right?).

Weird thing: I’m kinda used to it.

I guess that’s what really bugs me. This is exactly the kind of junk that random strangers used to do to me when I rode my bike back home in Duluth, Minn.

I’m not a devote environmentalist (Although it is a part of my life). I’m not trying to change the world by riding a bike to get milk (It doesn’t hurt, either.)

When I moved here in the fall and saw the bike paths marked on the road and all the cyclists using them, I was pretty jazzed. You see, when I lived in Duluth, we didn’t have those amazing lanes.

Maybe it’s my face or posture or clothes (I was just wearing shorts and a t-shirt today and riding a used mountain bike.), but every now and then (rarely) back in Minnesota, people (usually teenagers) would throw things at me when I rode my old bike home from work or to the video store or from wherever.

I got hit by batteries once, and then rocks, and finally got a cup of ice thrown in my face. Twice, I actually caught up to them. I’m going to keep what I said or did to them to myself... if that‘s okay.

So, today, after being angry and grappling with my own faith in humanity, I don’t want instant karma to get you. I’m not even sure what that means.

Just please stop, stupid. I don't want to report out someone else seriously getting hurt and then have me or a colleague write about the wreckage, court, prison and, finally, pain left over for your own family.

I've done all that for many, many others.

Mahalo and aloha, brah.