When I leave the garage, I head to the post in front of metro Laurier. I like to settle there for people watching, do some reading and wait for the bulk of the rush hour passes. I therefore
La Petite-Patrie and take Bellechasse east to go down and joining Laurier Chateaubriand via Saint-Hubert, Saint-Grégoire and Berri. I do this almost every day, I could geotag every pothole and tell you how much orange are the trees along the route.
That day, I'm doing bumper to bumper on Bellechasse. Previously, we could drive two vehicles wide. That was before we moved to an area where a bicycle path is not yet any bike. While I get my information in the onboard computer, the car in front brakes suddenly and then I took off. To avoid the buffering, I pointed at the bike path and slows my turn to let a pedestrian to whom I send hand. Once it crosses over, I stay on the right and as there is no shadow of a bicycle on the horizon, I ride to the corner of Chateaubriand and stop to light. That's when I see the type of car that I just avoid out of his tank. I
as if nothing had happened when he hit two big shots in my window. The guy is not swollen and irritated about. I open my window to know the ins and outs of his frustration.
- Do you want a fucking j't'en Asti of my asshole!?
- What's the problem?
I play cellar, especially since the bulk has a vein that moves him in the forehead. It is no doubt in my mind that the aggressive guy is catalyzed by the steroids he fucks. I let go trying to have the face of someone who does not know what happens.
- Did you have the bike path! You know not heat!
I realize that the guy has a turtleneck with the logo of the Montreal Transportation Company above. I think that's probably one of those officers who plays 24 hours on the 24. A "wannabe" beef. As the light changes, I began my window and passes close to him say that he is wasting the testicles, but I restrain myself. Especially with laughter.
The individual will follow me for a moment and attempt to continue the conversation, stopping next to me at the next light. I do not know what did not royally air to calm him down. He showed me his fist and then a finger that I am honored to ignore.
At the next light, I let pass another pedestrian and it is his turn to go close to beating me. I imagine having to fill out an accident report with Mister hormone floor.
Fortunately, he eventually gave up and I continue my merry way in the bulk of the rush hour.
