Jerk on a Bike

I nearly killed a guy while driving to work today. Biker moron. Actually, that’s a bike moron. I’ve never seen a motorcycle moron… plenty of bike morons, though. Especially, in Highland.

While approaching an intersection with stop lights a bus stopped in the far right lane… probably picking folks up. I’ve got the green light… which means the cross traffic has a red light. Even my boy knows that a red light means stop. (He says it all the time.)

Since its Highland, I’m not running fast… the neighborhood pretty much maxes out at 30 MPH. Not only that, I’ve got an effing bus blocking my view from anyone on the curb, so I'm careful. This guy comes out of no where. (They always do.) He didn’t peek around the bus… the damn fool rode his bike past the bus and then looked. However, he didn’t stop. Ever. Effing stunod keeps going and waves at me, apparently to let me know he saw me.

Great! You saw me… so why did you keep going? What if I hadn’t seen you? You wouldn’t stop a two-thousand pound bullet, jackass. Do I need some bike moron’s death on my conscious? Hell no. Do the neighborhood a favor and get the Hell out of here.

I rolled down the window and yelled,

“What in the flaming hootie-hoo is all that about!”

I should have said, “I hope you get cancer of the eyes!” Not that I’d actually wish that on anyone.