I’ve told this story before but please allow me to reiterate for the new followers.

About a year ago, I was on my way home from my mother’s. Traffic was bad on the highway, so I decided to go downtown instead. Sitting at the light before the bridge, I was enjoying a cool breeze coming off the river through my rolled window. Looking out, I noticed a man on a bicycle behind me.

I didn’t think much about it as I watched him read my bumper stickers. I have quite a few raging feminist ones because I adore them, and they tend to catch the eye.

But I felt… uncomfortable. I kept looking back at him, and felt myself growing apprehensive and wishing the light would change. Paying close attention, I see bicycle man turn around and begin fumbling with something in the cart he was pulling along with him. I hear him laugh in a way that makes my hair stand up, and he proceeds to yell to the guy in the car behind us, “These will make me whip out my road rage!”

The next few seconds were a blur. Now hawk-eyeing this guy, I see him turn back around with a thick fucking chain looped around his left fist, a fist raised in the air, as he’s inching his way towards my open window. The guy behind us sees the events unfolding and lays on his horn. Bicycle-man, startled, slams his fist into the side of my car.

Panicking, I slammed on the gas. It seemed like it’d had all taken an eternity, but the fucking light was STILL red. I blew right through it. I called my mother, sobbing, hysterical. After driving in a panic and nearly getting lost, I pulled over to try and calm down.

If I hadn’t been suspicious of him, of men in general, it’s likely I wouldn’t have noticed him until it was too late. And I’ll never forget that look he was giving me, the way I saw him staring at me, like in that second I KNEW he wanted me dead, and for what?

A few fucking stickers.