Sean Penn hates cyclists

(Apparently)

Penn and I spend about five hours together over the course of two days. A decent amount of the time, we drive around Marin County in my ridiculous rental car, a tiny, bright-red convertible. Penn rides shotgun, smoking, sunk low in the seat, often forgetting to give me directions until the last minute, then seeming pleased when I'm forced to cut off other cars or ubiquitous cyclists. (Penn: "Do you ride a bike?" Me: "No." Penn: "Good.")