Jerk

I'm riding down Walnut St. I've just passed Schuylkill Ave. and I'm just about to fly through the intersection between Walnut and S 30th St. when a car parked on the corner drives out in the bike lane to cross over to the right lane of Walnut. But it doesn't; the driver drives slowly in front of me and comes to a halt, forcing me to stop behind him.

I'm warm, I'm grouchy and my legs are still sore from a 20 mile ride last weekend. My irritation is growing. I start passing the car with a dirty look on my face when suddenly an arm without a hand comes out through the driver's window. It's followed by a gray head and a sincere, faint 'I'm sorry'.

I give him a smile as I ride past him. I feel like such a jerk.