My driver education program goes on, with undetermined success. This morning, not two blocks from my house, a white Ford F-250 diesel pickup blew right by me as I was trackstanding at a stop sign. This street is adjacent to a park where there are many runners, walkers, dogs, and kids walking to the local elementary school. He accelerated to 25 or 30, hit the brakes to get over the speed humps, and made a right onto the street that parallels the school playground. He blew another stop sign to get on the main boulevard and then really hit the gas.

I had tried to memorize the first couple of digits of his plate and started to chase but gave up when he blew threw yet another stop sign. So I started riding one of my usual routes into downtown.

And then, saints be praised, he pulled onto the same street 100 m ahead of me. I rode up to his passenger side window and he suddenly got very interested in a piece of paper on the dashboard. The light changed and we went ahead to the next block and this time I rode up to the driver side window and said, "Excuse me. Did you just come through Curtis Park?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, do me a favor. Next time you cut through my neighborhood have the courtesy to keep it under 25 and don't blow the stop signs. "

And then he lied: "What!?! I didn't blow any stop signs!"

"Dude, please. You whipped around me at a stop sign and I could feel the breeze from your side mirror. Look, there are a lot of kids that walk to that school..."

Then the light changed and I didn't get a chance to finish because he gunned it again. Dick.