You might have noticed recently that we have had some snow. I know. Shocking, right? Let me refresh: You were stuck in the house for days with nothing to do but look out the window and procrastinate the inevitable shoveling. I am from Philadelphia—snow doesn’t bother me. I know how to drive in it. I don’t immediately run to the nearest grocery store to buy toilet paper, milk and eggs like the apocalypse is at hand —one that will render all of us toilet paperless and without nutritional necessities. And PS? I also clean the snow from the roof of my car so it doesn’t fly off into the one behind me when I finally do dig out and get on the road. This is simple frost-etiquette, people. Embrace it. I could go on and on about all that…but that can wait for the next white-out. The issue I wish to bring to the fore was an observation by both myself and a colleague who happens to live in my neighborhood. Let’s talk joggers and bikers. Don’t get me wrong—I like to see people running and peddling. I do it myself. I highly recommend and support exercise. You go people. But here’s where you don’t go…in the middle of the street, when there is snow and ice, with earphones blaring music, AGAINST traffic, on one of the most traffic-heavily trafficked areas—a circle, no less, during rush hour. And worse? You have the unmitigated gall to flip the bird to those drivers who come, inadvertently, perilously close to your sneakers. No. I love you, intrepid exercisers. I’m impressed that you have the wherewithal to get on out there in freezing temperatures and do your thing. Truly, I salute you! I’ll bet you guys don’t even eat bacon. But here’s the thing. The street—it was put there for cars too. Yes…cars...trucks, motorcycles, Vespas, etc. I know there are bike lanes, and I think that’s great, but when they are ecluded because of some…say…two FEET worth of flakes piled on high, could you perhaps consider the weather conditions and have a little pity on the drivers out there? We do not want to hit you—I promise. Like you, we barely have gotten out of the house all weekend. It took us about 3 hours to unearth our car from the pillar of snow it had become—kind of like a frosty version of Sodom. Our backs are killing us. We’re now not only exhausted but hopped up on Motrin. Please…have pity on us…and more important, what you’re doing is dangerous. Save yourselves!! Live to put on those ridiculous biking outfits (which kind of make you look like some sort of Marvel Comic character, by the way...and I do say that with endearment) another day. And so, my colleagues in cycling, I ask you, as two-wheeled travelers on a four-wheeled street, to consider the weather conditions and the safety of all. And oh, that smell you smell? It’s me…cooking bacon. Trust me, it’s delicious. Have some.