Hey, Bicycle Guy! Fiorella saw you Wednesday afternoon about 3:15 on LaVaca at Nineteenth. You were dressing down the driver of a delivery truck for following too close.
Two minutes later you cut into my lane on Nineteenth, and, riding like the wind, turned left against the red light and no-left-turn sign.
Fiorella didn't realize that owning a bike made one king of the road.
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