I had my elbow shaved yesterday by a car in a hurry to catch up to the car in front. I made my usual (non-obscene) pointing finger gesture as he passed indicating that I'd like a little more room please. The car behind (middle aged bloke in a red Celica with body kit) took it upon himself to pass me and then stop in the middle of the road to tell me that the car in front hadn't passed me too close, and even if he had I should be on the cycle path.
I didn't react well. I did point out that if the fat fuck got out of his car and did some exercise occasionally he might have a better appreciation of life outside a car. I also pointed out that I was married and was patronised enough at home and didn't need his help. This would have been a lot more effective if I hadn't been swearing like a sailor in my most aggressive Belfast accent.
He decided to put me in my place by calling me a fucking nutter and driving off, allowing the now substantial tailback behind him to move off. The thing is that his is a fairly distinctive car and there is only one place he can have been going at that time of day, which is the same place I was going.
Postscript.
As I cycled into work, there was a different guy stood at the side of the road waving me down. It turns out that he was the driver of the first car, and he wanted to genuinely apologise for cutting me close, it was a genuine mistake and he was quite upset that he'd done it, being a keen cyclist himself. We shook hands and went on our ways, which rather took the wind out of the rant I was composing for the entertainment of the rest of my office!
