The kid in the old Jetta gave me a sneer as he gunned his car past me, a bit too close for comfort. Then, he whipped his car back into my lane hard enough that his tires squealed. Obviously, he didn't approve of a bicyclist being in the left lane of Cherry Street.
Two seconds after I got passed, I turned left at the intersection, and took the sidewalk on the south side of the bridge over Cherry Creek. This was my habit, when I took this route home. It allowed me to cross the creek, then cross Cherry Creek Drive and cross over to Dexter Street, without having to turn left onto Cherry Creek Drive at a busy intersection.
As I rode across the bridge, the kid in the Jetta gunned it toward the intersection. The light turned red, and he ran it to make the left turn...just as another guy, going straight in the other direction, also ran it. They met under the red light, each of them going about 35 miles per hour with a rather loud crash.
Metal buckled, glass shattered, and airbags deployed.
And I just kept riding, trying hard to not find pleasure in the misfortune of others.