Be-yoo-tee-fool morning. The new fork is making Le Noir feel brand new, like I’ve only put five miles on here, not 5,000. Coming west on 8th Street on my way to Fairfax a car darts out from across the street and my first impulse is that it’s firing itself across my bow, but it’s cool: instead he’s just making a left and in the course of it I make eye contact with the driver who turns sharp enough to leave plenty of room for me. Nice.

Two blocks up and twenty five ticks later: not so nice. At the stop sign at Genessee dang if the dude hasn’t already completely forgotten about me and when I’m all up on his starboard side doe he suddenly maneuver toward a right turn without looking even the slightest bit either in his mirrors or over his shoulder to see me looming.

I’m able to get through without getting pinched but also without being able to contain my disdain at his lack of recall or attention to the most rudimentary aspects of driver awareness.

It’s only later that I find the bonus instead of a soundless timelapse video record of the encounter, I discover I’ve accidentally set the cam to capture full audio/video of the event — surprisingly G-rated in language:

PS. Any guesses on how long it’ll take some perfectard to point out in a comment to the YouTube clip that I did not come to a full and complete — one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand — stop and are thereby entirely at-fault for everything, and in no position to complain?