Nearly dying has a way of getting one's attention.
That is maybe a bit disingenuous. I didn't nearly die. It just felt like it. Picture this: side street. Empty except for me. I'm in the lane because it's icy. Big truck comes up behind me. I can tell it's a big pickup by the sound of it. I maintain my lane. There's no oncoming traffic. The truck comes right up to me, lays on the horn as he takes my rear wheel and passes me with less than a foot between me and the truck, all the while gunning his engine.
Big trucks usually mean big jackasses if the driver is a jackass.
I love when a gashole thinks its funny to pass in such a way as to endanger someone else's life. Funny ha ha.
I wish I had gotten a picture of the truck, but what would that have done? Nothing. That's what.
The worst part is that it happened early in the ride so the rest of my ride was colored by the anger I felt at nearly being run down.
And the shame for how I handled the situation - by yelling profanities and waving my arm about in a WTF? gesture. But happily abstaining from flying the bird.
At least it's sunny out. A blue bird day for a ride indeed.