I’m riding home in the dark tonight, all done up in lights like a rolling Christmas tree. A white Corolla passes on my left, then shortly after turns across my path to parallel park on the right side of the road.
On the approach, it was uncertain if he meant to make a Y-turn, which would involve turning across my path again. The driver wasn’t giving a turn signal at all.
Caution is a healthy habit for night riders, so I called a hearty, “On your left!” as I upshifted to zip around the stopped car. As I’m making a tight pass on the busy road, the driver’s head pops out the window like a Whack-A-Mole, shouting, “What. Waaaaaht!” with the most vivid Brooklyn inflection ever to reach these Pacifican ears.
I almost took the poor guy’s head off, and that would have been horrible in it’s own right. It would be additionally bad, since he probably misunderstood my ping for a heckle.
Anyhow, that voice that could have come straight from a gangster film kept me giggling all the way home.
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