You passed me on your bike in heavy traffic on N. Interstate a few minutes ago, but you didn't say peep. You're just up in my business all of a sudden, startling the crap outta me. I yell, "On your left!" once you're clear. You look back and say, "Relax." You then proceed to take a left onto the most dangerous part of N. Killingsworth when there are great bike streets within a couple blocks on either side. In short, you are a moron and my only hope is that when you are inevitably mangled by a car, you don't take anyone down with you.
ON YOUR LEFT!
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