Mo­tor­cy­cle mansplainer

The Coast - - VISUAL ARTS - —Cranky Sedan

I pulled up at the red light turn­ing onto the Mac­Don­ald Bridge from Dartmouth to the mini­van in front of me just sit­ting there wait­ing for the light to turn green. There is no right turn on red, that’s true, but only be­tween 6am and 9am, and 4pm and 6pm. It was 9:10am. So, be­cause we didn’t have to just sit there, I honked my horn. The mini­van didn’t move, ei­ther be­cause they didn’t know it was af­ter 9am or be­cause they couldn’t see the sign from their po­si­tion. In any case, I was an­noyed enough, but then YOU had to show up and block the other lane. You, Mr. Mid-50s on a mo­tor­cy­cle be­ing all high and mighty, com­mis­er­at­ing with mini­van and shak­ing your head at me, like I was the one be­ing a dum­b­ass, while I con­tin­ued to honk and firmly in­form you that it was “AF­TER 9!” while tap­ping my watch. OK, so maybe I was be­ing a lit­tle ag­gro, but I was RIGHT and you were be­ing a dick. You had a full view of the sign and yet you just as­sumed that I, a young woman, was the one in the wrong. Fuck you and your mini­van friend for wast­ing two min­utes of my time with your bull­shit. I would find it pretty sat­is­fy­ing if a garbage truck backed over your bike while it was parked out­side what­ever shitty work­place you were go­ing to.

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