Crazy Guy: In the Crosshairs

So I was just minding my own business, waiting patiently at the light at 45th and Lamar, when I noticed the guy in front of me. He was a middle-aged dude on a motorcycle, wearing a white wife beater and khaki shorts, no helmet. A bit of a paunch, a sloucher. Meh. Then (it's a long light),  I began noticing that the bike was a blue BMW with black saddle bags and plates from Georgia. Finally, something clicked, and my first thought was, "Nooo waaaayy!" It was Crazy Guy. Yep. There he was—mere inches from the fender of my car, doing that neck-cracking thing that dumb guys always do when they feel bored. Thought: "Oooh, I'd like to crack that neck myself, you big, mean @#$%^&*."

My next thought was, "I could totally run Crazy Guy over. Right now." The thrill of the power was a little dizzying. Next thought, "Why not?" (Eighth or tenth thought--when it was too late, "Dammit. I drive a Toyota. I could have totally burned him and then blamed the 'accident' on my sticky accelerator pedal." Ninth or eleventh thought: "What is wrong with you? You'd never get away with it in a million years.")

I studied CG while we waited for the light to change. I knew that I could never actually run over Crazy Guy with my vehicle or even roll down the window and threaten to. After all, those are his M.O.'s. I did, however, follow him for a little bit, completely innocently; after all, his house is on a major road that I normally take to go home. But I felt suspense, as if I were waiting for something to happen. What exactly? Ooh, I know. He falls off his bike, and then I run over him. Oops! Or he gets into an accident and then I slow down, roll down the window, and laugh "HAHAHAHA, you @#$%^&&." Or , he cuts somebody off and makes a scene, and then I stop and get out and tell the cops that he's a known offender and probably packing. Or. . . or . . . I couldn't really think of anything that would not make me look like a complete maniac. So I did the only reasonable thing I could do. I rolled to a stop next to him at 45th and Shoal Creek and then flipped him the bird as I turned. He never noticed. CG notices nothing except the messed-up car crash-dog snuff films in his own head. What a schmuck.

So, take note. Crazy Guy is out of jail and back on his bike. He's just a @##$$%^, but it's best to leave him be. Let's be careful (and sane) out there this holiday weekend.
Take care, z