I was walking my bike on the sidewalk on Hawthorne in front of the 12th ave food carts. Your little white hatchback was parked halfway on the sidewalk. There was a trashcan taking up the other half of the sidewalk. Instead of just standing there and waiting for you to move your car (I didn't even see that you were inside it), I attempted to move the trashcan with my free hand. But it was really full and heavy! I didn't even move it an inch, and I ended up falling off balance, and my handlebar made contact with your car. It was just a tap! Well, you totally flipped out. You leaned over your poor, frightened-looking son and proceeded to scream at me. "WHAT? IS THAT WHAT YOU JUST DID? YOU JUST HIT MY CAR? OH GREAT. YEAH FINE I'LL MOVE." And so on. I couldn't get a word in to try and explain myself. You just assumed I intentionally barged into your car in order to punish you for parking on the sidewalk. Then you peeled out, still screaming, and burned around the corner. For the sake of your son, man, chill the hell out. He probably has to endure your rage day in and day out, and it probably sucks for him.
Get the best of the Mercury each week in your inbox!