in touch with my inner rageaholic

Tonight, with nothing really going on, I strapped on a bike and went tooling around - with no real destination in mind, I guess I was literally out looking for trouble. Returned a movie and some library CDs, then out to Ypsi, thinking I would do some exploring of places to plop and read a book and drink a beer or a coffee... but then I realized I'd forgotten my book (In the Company of the Courtesan, which I'm really enjoying) at home. Ok, fine - I'll just poke around town then. Went into the new vintage toy store Rocket downtown Ypsi and got a Morton Salt salt shaker for nostalgia, but without my literary entertainment and places I would have like to go into closed, I headed back westward. Hungry as hell, I stopped at Whole Foods and picked up some Muesli bread that I grazed on while browsing the magazine rack at the Barnes and Noble nearby. From there, it's into town, with thoughts of a beer on my mind. And that's when I passed through campus....

North on State St., and from out of a car window, I hear something ending in "... should ride on the sidewalk..." as this car full of yougsters passes me. That shit pisses me off to no end - people in cars thing they are strong, anonymous, and invulnerable. Well, I'm not your grandma - say that to my face, asshole. Peaceful co-existence between cyclists and motorists? I try to most of the time, but not tonight. No, not me.

Hitch my britches, jump on it a little and check back - no traffic. Skippedy-bip, around the pedestrians, up to their bumper, but can't get around... ah, the lights turning 3 blocks up... biding time, and luckily the window is still open... it's a car full of youngsters. 5 of 'em, can't be more than 19. Rolling up, blocking in the door, back of the bike blocking the rear door, my 6'3", 200 lbs of my serious angry face in the window...
Rageaholic Me: "you got something to say to me?"
Pimple Farm: "uhh.. no. nuh-uh"
RM: "you seemed to have something you wanted to say to me a mile back."
PF: "who me? no, I didn't say anything..."
RM: "oh, that was maybe some other red buick with 5 kids in it? try again. you seem to have a lot to say when you're feeling tough driving along, but when I'm right in front of you somehow you've got nothing to say. you got something to say to me, say it." (I somehow managed to avoid the "go ahead and say something, you pussy" cliche)
[a couple breaths of glaring staring here, it's clear that he's brave in the car when he thinks he won't have to account for his behavior and weak in the knees when pushed back against. the light turns green, we go our seperate ways]

I feel a little bad about instigating on what are basically kids out for a ride, but if they promise to think twice next time, I'll promise to try to forget that I have a heavy lock and they have a glass windshield. It didn't have to go this way, it really didn't. But I'll be a cliched rage-filled asshole cyclist some day if this keeps up.