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Story by Kimberly Castillo

Every last Friday of the month, bicyclists around the city congregate at Justin Herman Plaza for a local phenomenon known as Critical Mass, to protest the use of gas-guzzling, pollution-causing, ozone-depleting cars. September 29th was the 15th anniversary of this tradition.

Thousands of bikers made up of families, punks, hipsters, hippies and everything in between took off for an evening ride through downtown - their main goal being to give motorists pause and make them think about how terrible they are for supporting the oil war through driving.

But the bicyclists aren't all peaceful protesters. Many of them were downing beers and flipping off car drivers. Intersections were blocked for up to five minutes while bikes circled around in a self-righteous merry-go-round.

One regular, whose bike is is the group's unofficial mascot, fashioned to look like a fish with scales made of cd's, provided ambient music that blasted hits like "La Bamba" and "Hit the Road Jack".

As the group approached Pier 39, tourists took pictures as the bicyclist whooped and hollered through the street. Fellow bikers encouraged each other when they tackled tough hills. Over all it gave a sense of community to a group that is often marginalized in the city.

Bikers bike for many reasons: for one, maybe they can't afford cars and two, bikes are better for the environement. And really all they get in return is agressive drivers that nearly run them over and double-park in their designated lanes.

Yet for all their eco-friendly rhetoric, the traffic jams they cause sure do hold up traffic.

One cyclist, Asella Donovan Blood, 23, noted, "It kinda creates more pollution in a way..."

As the group headed down Market Street through the Tenderloin, one biker heckled a car full of guys who were fed up with the hold-up. The guys jumped out of their car and started pounding the biker (who was probably wasted). Suddenly an avalanche of bikers started shoving the guys back. The driver reached into his glove compartment and somebody shouted "He's got a gun!"

Bikers dispersed like ants and the car screeched off into the night.

The bikers where startled but they trudged onward to their destination - a pub in the mission to celebrate their journey.

The city had tolerated their monthly wrath once again. They were victorious.