I'm not proud of the following, but it's a story from the other side of the throwing.
A couple of years ago, I was riding in Chicago on a Saturday in May in the area of Lincoln Park, close to Lake Michigan. I was approaching an intersection with a green light when a car passed me and turned right immediately in front of me. I slammed on my brakes and the quick stop sent to me the ground. I came away with torn pants and a large bloody abrasion on my right knee. I remember the grinning faces of the passenger and driver as they cut me off, but most of all I remember the car, which was either an original or replica of the Batman car from the 1960s television show, "Batman," complete with an open top.
I was furious, because it was obvious that their maneuver was intentional and because I could have been seriously injured if I hadn't reacted as quickly as I did. I got back on my bike, my knee throbbing and dripping blood, and headed west on Armitage in order to catch a Metra train at the Clybourn stop. The traffic was really backed up on Armitage, which has many stop signs, and I was able to advance faster on my bike than any car. About half way to the Metra, a coffee shop was handing out samples. I was at a stop light, and the lady said I looked like I needed something soothing and offered me a small paper cup of hot tea. I received it gratefully, then continued on, sipping tea and passing long lines of cars stalled in heavy traffic. To my amazement, I spotted the Batman car ahead of me, surrounded by a sea of traffic. I pulled up to the car, tossed the tea at the driver and said, "Payback's a *****." Then I accelerated away, filtering through traffic as the soaked driver cursed at me impotently. The traffic was such that they were stuck in the middle of the block, unable to advance or turn around.
By the time I got on the train, I was regretting what I had done, and I still feel bad about letting my anger lead my actions, but in the moment, I relished giving those jerks a bit of their own medicine.