What it’s like to bike in Los Angeles, Part III

Biking home from a dinner party at a friend’s place, the car in front of me got fed up with the slow-moving driving in front of him and decided to pass. Without looking, he veered out to the right–straight into the bike lane that I happened to be riding in–cutting me off so closely that I was able to slap the back of his car with my hand. I yelled to let him know I was there. When he realized what he’d done, he ran the red light at the end of the street in order to avoid having┬áto wait next to me at the intersection once I caught up.