Brats

(image courtesy FunnyArtPictures.Com)


So I'm out riding last evening. Not two miles from home base, a kid in the back seat of a Pontiac Grand Prix whips something out of the rear passenger seat at me as his car rolls by.

I don't know what it was, and I don't really care, but it went right over my handlebars.

So I sprint after the car, fairly certain that I can catch it because there are two stop signs up ahead.

I catch the car at the second stop sign and pull alongside the female driver and make the universal signal to roll the window down.

The driver either doesn't see me or pretends not to see me.

So I pull through the intersection. And throw my chain off of the ring while doing so.

"Dammit!"

As the car rolls by, the little shit in the back seat gives me one of those "Gotcha, b----!" looks.

But then the driver pulls into an apartment building not 50 yards from where I'm putting my chain back on.

"Gotcha, b----!"

I proceeded to roll down the driveway into the parking lot. The car has parked.

I roll up to the driver.

"I was trying to get your attention back there because your boy in the back seat threw something at me as you were driving."

"Jake! I can't believe you would throw something out of the window!"

Muffled, from 12-13 year-old Jake: "Sorry about that."

"Just wanted to let you know, ma'am. See you around, Jake."