With apologies to Alannis Morrissette (and to Redd Foxx),
"Isn't it ironic, don't you think? It's like getting a brain tumor, going through treatment, making it to the end of the year, and then getting killed by Sanford and daughter on a short bike ride three days after Christmas."
It was a lovely day for a short bike ride, and bike rides aid in my recovery. So, I was just a couple of miles in to an ultimately 15-mile ride and I was behind a line of cars on a residential street. The front car pulled to the side, letting everyone else pass. Once the cars passed, I was right behind the pulled over vehicle, which turned out to be a pickup truck hauling a trailer filled with junk. I paused to see if they saw me and if I should also go around. When the truck didn't move, I started pulling around.
I passed the trailer and was next to the open driver's window when the truck started pulling back into the street. The street where I was.
There was a woman in her 20's driving, and I looked at her and said "watch out." It was at a reasonable level of voice, and was simply a "I'm here, so be careful pulling out" admonition. She stopped pulling out, I went around, she went on her way. Everything fine, yes?
I thought so. The pickup truck pulled up next to me, and the dude in the passenger seat rolled down his window and started screaming at me. I wasn't entirely sure what he was saying or what specific infraction he was accusing me of.
Having had other unpleasant interactions with cars (and angry people), I am pretty good at not escalating. So first, I ignored him and kept riding.
The truck pulls next to me again and he picks up yelling.
I respond with a "it's all good. No problem." Then kept riding.
Apparently not the response he wanted. Truck pulls next to me again. It's about here that I realize it's not just angry dude, since the woman is driving and is the one pulling next to me over and over again.
He starts yelling again, and the words I pick up are something about his daughter pulling over to let people pass.
I tell him "I was just making sure she saw me."
Also not the response he was seeking. But I keep riding. Truck pulls up next to me again. Dude keeps yelling. Honestly, I am tuning out most of it by now. But he ended with something like, "We are pulling over, and you are going to apologize to her. If you don't, I'm going to..." I really didn't hear the "or else" threat, but am clear it had some violence involved. Sure enough, they whip around, go up a bit, and pull to the side of the road.
Still in de-escalation mode, I am thinking of an acceptable apology.
"Sorry I verbalized a warning since you had made no indication of seeing me, and very likely were headed toward running me over. An encounter that would have certainly impacted both of us negatively, but I would wager would be worse for me. If I somehow startled or offended you in trying to ensure you didn't kill me, I truly regret that. Oh, and sorry your father is such an asshole. And since you are part of this whole thing, sorry your entire family is filled with assholes. And further apologies if your mom or a sibling or two are not assholes and I have just unfairly painted your whole clan with the "asshole" brush."
But realizing this wasn't likely a de-escalation, and also that I ride much faster than that and wouldn't get through the whole speech while passing them, I shortened it.
I passed the truck, looked in the open window, and said "Merry Christmas." Then I kept riding.
The truck pulls back onto the street and whips around me again. It was about here that I wished I had listened closer to the threat he made. It occurred to me that my evasive maneuver depended on the threat. If he (or really his daughter) was going to try to run me off the road, I could ride up a driveway and through someone's XMas decorations. Certainly blow-up Santas are either deterrents or helpful obstacles. If they were going to pull over and he was going to get out to kick my ass, I would leave the dude in the dust. I outran two pit bulls trying to eat me once, hitting speeds close to 50 mph. Idiot angry junk man ain't never going to catch me. Give me three steps, give me three steps, mister. But if the threat was in someway involving guns, then I could, well, I could get shot. No easy evasive maneuver there, outside of movies or video games. But they kept driving. Possibly the "Merry Christmas" was enough.
"Isn't it ironic, don't you think?" It's like having multiple unpleasant encounters while cycling with young white idiots in pickup trucks, and the first one that actually seemed dangerous was with a middle-aged Hispanic junk man. And his daughter.
