Last week, I had a series of challenging encounters on the road, which I'm sharing for your dining and dancing pleasure:
It started Wednesday evening, on my way down to Bikes on Beale. I was passing by the historic Peabody Hotel, when a white SUV started pulling out into the street into my lane. Fortunately, it stopped abruptly, so nothing came from it. But I got a good look at the driver. It was Elvis, in his studded white jumpsuit and shaded glasses, talking on a cell phone. (Well, it was probably an Elvis impersonator, since he looked a lot younger than Elvis should be at this point.)
The next morning, on my way to work, this guy in a big black Nissan Murano decided to change lanes, into my lane. He was driving with his left hand because his right hand was halfway down his throat, picking his teeth. I was able to move to the far left lane, and then gave him a series of gestures that meant, "You just changed lanes into me! Use your mirrors, idiot!" He pulled up next to me and began yelling at me as we proceeded down the road. In his view, it was all my fault because I was riding in his blind spot, and my motorcycle is "too damned small to be seen." He then slowed down to ensure he was caught by a yellow light that I went through, so I was not able to educate him on several points. I would have liked point out to him that there is no such thing as a blind spot if you have your mirrors adjusted correctly and make an effort to look before changing lanes. I would have also suggested he consider using his lane-change indictor lights. I don't know why it would have been hard for him to just give me a typical "sorry!" shrug.
Finally, on the same ride to work, a raccoon lumbered across the road in front of me. Raccoons have big butts and they don't run, they just waddle. This one was crossing in the middle of the block instead of using a crosswalk, and had I been able to catch up with it, I would have given it the lecture the Murano driver should have gotten.