2009-07-13 - 2:35 p.m.
Amazing what one guy in a hurry can do. I was riding my bike around the loop here, as I do every day. I was coming down the same hill I do every time, riding in the right-hand side of the right-turn lane, generally keeping well out of the way of car traffic. I'd just eaten lunch and was feeling good, sun on my face and my forearms, July air through my hair, lifting up the back of my T-shirt. I didn't hear the car come up behind me, but it did, because suddenly there was a hugely loud car horn. My chest rattled and when I turned to see what the trouble was, I saw a black Jeep Cherokee about one bike's length behind me. The grill, chromed and shiny like bared teeth, was very close to me. The guy behind the wheel, a balding white guy about my age, held up his hands, as if to say, get out of my way. I was not going that slowly and I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. He was turning right, and so he needed to be in the lane I was in, but he could have gone around me very easily. Or he could have just slowed down a little and waited until he got to where he needed to be. He honked again. I got stubborn. I braked and he got closer. I weaved left and then right. He got closer. I braked more. I finally got to the parking lot where he wanted to turn and sped up. He turned right. In all, I delayed him by about two seconds, maybe three. I looked back and he was giving me the finger. He was mouthing something. I gave him the finger back. When I was done with the ride, a few hundred yards later, I stuck my bike in the rack and came inside, shaking a little bit all over.
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