Here's one from the days of my reckess youth: I was riding home on a Saturday night in a bicycle lane downtown. There were a number of cars parked in a row to the right of the lane. As I passed one of them, it quickly pulled out, then swerved all the way into the oncoming lane. The car clipped me, and knocked me off my bike, but I wasn't hurt. The driver took off, his headlights still off, swerving all over the road. I picked up my bike and chased him. He saw me, and tried to evade capture. He took his car southbound into 3 lanes of northbound traffic, still without headlights, weaving all over the road. There was very little traffic, and somehow he didn't get hit. I contiuned to chase him through red lights until he got caught with his pants down at an intersection, boxed in by a streetcar. I was livid. I was thinking about how I was going to pummel this butthead with my lock. When I pulled up next to him, he rolled down his window and started begging for mercy. He was so drunk, he could barely sit up-I could smell the booze from outside the car. I grabbed him by the shirt collar, and thought about pounding his face into mush, but I couldn't bring myself to hit him. He was just too pathetic, and feeble, a broken little runt of a man. So I took my anger out on his car. I broke his windshield, rear window, and mirror with my NY lock. Then I put two very large deep dents in his roof before riding away. In hindsight, I wished I had gotten his keys and called the cops, but I was too mad to think straight.