I know you didn't mean any harm. I know you're sorry you didn't see me. I know you were apologetic when I passed you after our little "dance."
I'm sorry I flipped you off, although in my defense, when I did it I'd only just avoided being killed. I was frightened, and that made me angry.
Here's the thing. I was riding in the fast lane right next to you. I was not quite even with the driver's window, but I was only a couple of feet back. I was not in your blind spot. But I had a premonition, so I put my thumb over the horn button, just in case. I trusted that a beep of the horn would alert you to my presence; I could see that your window was down a few inches.
I had a premonition, and sure enough you turned on your signal and began to move into the lane I was already occupying.
So I tapped the horn. Apparently you couldn't hear it, though, because you kept coming over. So I blasted the horn: several long blasts. Still you came over. I finally had to take evasive action and brake hard to avoid being forced into oncoming traffic.
If I hadn't been alert enough for both of us, you'd be looking forward to a lifetime of guilt and I...well, I'd be lying in a morgue.
That's why I flipped you off, lady. Because you nearly killed me.
I'm a biker, and that kind of thing happens fairly frequently. Usually, though, a toot of the horn and the car swerves back into the lane it was coming from.
After more than 37,000 miles on the Harley, I've learned that I have to be alert enough for everyone on the road, because too often four-wheel motorists (who bikers frequently refer to derisively as "cagers") are completely oblivious to the presence of motorcyclists.
Maybe it would have happened even if I was in a car, and maybe not, but even if it had, here's the difference: if you hit someone in a modern car, chances are everyone's walking away (maybe cursing, but still alive and well).
If you hit a biker, that biker's day has been ruined. It's entirely possible that biker's life has been ruined. It is in fact pretty likely that the biker will not survive the encounter (and you will).
So I'm sorry I flipped you off, lady. I'm sorry I wasn't more gracious when you tendered your mimed apology. I believe you meant it.
I know that you came very close to ruining two lives (maybe more; I don't think those birthday balloons were you, and what effect would your guilt have had on your child over the course of a lifetime?)
And I just can't figure out why you couldn't hear my horn. Your window was almost half down, and my horn is not very quiet. For that matter, my motorcycle itself makes some noise. How did you not hear me? What were you paying attention to when you should have been paying attention to the road and the proper control of the 4,000 pound Juggernaut you were responsible for.
No doubt your impression of me, formed when I flipped you off, passed you and glared angrily at you, is not a good one. Maybe after that, you weren't feeling so apologetic any more. Maybe I helped reinforce a stereotype of what kind of person rides a Harley.
So I'm sorry. I'm sorry I reacted badly. I'm sorry I flipped you off. I'm sorry for anything I did that might make you think bikers are perhaps too uncouth, too rude, too violent to deserve the consideration civilized folk do.
I'm just glad you didn't hear what I said.
I'm not sorry I survived, though. Survived to ride another day.
