I am sympathetic to cyclists.

And yet, when I see one blithely riding across four lanes of traffic while talking on a cell phone, I feel I ought to give him a brush with his own mortality. For his own sake, of course, so he doesn't next decide to try riding across four lanes of traffic while texting or masturbating or something equally as distracting. Because you know if he got away with that, it would only escalate, until one day he found himself in the hospital, explaining to his mother why he'd been riding across a ten-lane interstate while sexting his girlfriend blindfolded with his hair on fire and a rabid prairie dog biting his ankle.

On a mostly unrelated note, if you, as an excitable young man, ever consider miming slitting your would-be girlfriend's throat, in aid of whatever thrilling story you may be telling, don't do it. She will not find it appealing. [Phew! I've been wanting to get that off my chest for a while now.]