I was riding up the big hill on Ontario today, and the gears on my 1980s beater bike got stuck on the big gear – stuff like this happens all the time on old bikes… I pulled over to fix it, and this man walks by and jeered “Don’t know how to get up a hill chink?” …As the words settled in, my first reaction was to let him walk away without saying anything (after-all I faced hourly bouts of rampant racism when I travel, so it’s not like it’s the first time something like this has happened to me) …but then I remembered that this is my hometown, and I won’t tolerate being abused like this in my own hometown. The guy had walked half a block up the hill, and I yelled back at him, loudly, but politely (no need to stoop to his level now right?): “You know that’s very rude” … “And unnecessary.” He heard me. He probably also noticed that I speak better English than he did. A minute later, I fixed the gears on my bike and blasted up that hill like I was riding a 15lb full-carbon race-demon rather than a 35lb beater that was probably older than me. Man can I ever conjure up the super-human strength when I’m pissed off… I heard him say something like “Whoa ho ho” when I sped by but didn’t spare him a second glance – people like him aren’t worth that much. I just let the sight of my ass leaving him in the dust do the talking. Score: Vivian: 1 / Pitiful Loser: 0