“So, did you ride your bike today?” asked a racquetball buddy, smirking.

“What, no bike today?” joked another, smugly.

“Where’s the bike? Too snowy for ya?” asked a co-worker, savoring the moment as he held the door open as we walked in together from the, ugh, parking lot.

No, I didn’t ride today. No bike. No, it’s at home. Yes, it’s too snowy.

My regular commutes have been anything but lately. A bad run of weather, a pesky upper-respiratory infection and general lack of time and motivation have forced me to drive to work — and, yes, racquetball — much too much lately.

I’ve still gotten in a couple of rides, so I’m far from 0-for-’11, but I’ve driven far more than I’ve pedaled, and, I have to admit, I’m not taking it well.

I know a guy who’s an everyday, four-weather cyclist and big-time mile eater. I’ll call him Craig, since everybody else does. Craig contends he gets grumpy whenever he’s forced to use four wheels instead of two, and at first I laughed it off.

Of course, I was riding regularly at the time, and the yuks came more easily.

At the time, I thought I was immune to the grumps.

Then I noticed the cat and the kids cowering whenever daddy stomped in from the garage.

The seemingly innocuous comments and questions from friends and co-workers put me over the top.

I’m sure, deep down, they’re so accustomed to seeing me ride regardless of the weather they’re just inquiring in their own way about my well-being. But through my blind rage, I see a couple smiling with their eyes, grinning, elbowing each other, and I want to SHOVE MY FIST RIGHT DOWN THEIR … no, sorry, deep breath. I don’t mean that.

I’ll take the comments in the spirit in which I’m sure they were intended.

And just as soon as I get my bad-weather bike winterized, finally, and don’t have to contend with freezing rain or Snowmegeddeon or a 17-below wind chill, I’ll be back in the saddle, riding regularly again.

Thanks for asking.

Jerks.