Remember the mean old white bastard who drove a classic model pale blue Mercedes and chased the Contraption Captain and I up the street screaming expletives at us and trying to force us to get off our bicycles and scream with him? The guy who wanted to tear us new assholes because we had committed the crime of bicycling too close together and talking to each other and having fun? This is the same guy who chased us all the way to the gate of Contraption Captain's company where we dragged our bicycles inside and hid out until he was gone and I was late to work?
Yeah. Me too. I remember that asshat really well. Every time I drop Rapunzel at school and take Ravenwood St towards work I'm watching my rear view mirror.
Then a few days back I meet Contraption Captain at work and we pedal off on our merry (really!) way towards home and Captain points out a garage to me. And there it is! In that garage is the self-same Pale Blue Mercedes. Alone, unattended by a raging asshole, it is just sitting there nearly begging me to leave some charming mark all over it's minty fresh but vintage surface.
"Welp" says the Contraption Captain "That explains a lot."
"What?" I say. "It doesn't explain anything!"
The Captain laughs and says "He lives on Bryant" and then he gives me a meaningful look.
"Bryant Street, also known as Bicycle Boulevard."
The Contraption Captain smiles patiently, "He hates bicyclists and he lives at the foot of the Menlo Park Bike Bridge which adjoins Bicycle Boulevard. Every day he sees tons of bicyclists. It must really burn his ass."
...and that made me laugh.
I haven't entirely ruled out the putting any or all of the following bumper stickers on that vintage car, however:
1. I Hate Bicyclists. Don't Ask Me Why.
2. I've Had This Car Since Signing On With The Gestapo
3. Since My Wife Left, I Just Have This Car To Mount