Crazy guy is Crazy

This morning as I'm stepping out to my car there is a gentleman walking by. This is a very common occurrence as my house is situated in an alley with a lot of foot traffic. Normally I say "good morning" and continue about my day.

This gentleman was wearing shorts and a blue T-shirt with sporty looking sunglasses. His skin was very tanned and craggy, the look you associate with sailors, desert people and bums. This guy's clothes didn't look all that bad so he might not have been a bum. He didn't have a cutlass either, so sailor is out. He might've been a desert person as Los Angeles is technically a desert. He also had a worn blue backpack and sandals.

Before I could get my usual "good morning" out of my mouth he starts swearing at me and calling me stupid. He says someone is going to knock over my bike and that I'm stupid. He might get his own truck and knock it over because I'm stupid.

I have my 1972 GS1000 parked outside my house gathering dust. I hardly drive it because I'm a rather large man and I give people rides all the time to and from work. I doubt it'd start if I did decide to take it out.

It has been parked in the same spot for a little over a year. I park my car right next to it. I am not afraid of someone stealing it because a) the bars are locked, b) the thing weighs a 1000 pounds and c) if you really want to go through the trouble of loading a 1000 pound motorcycle that is worth less than my Playstation onto a truck with the help of at least two other guys, go for it.

I have dealt with crazies before. In fact, it may be a little alarming how often I deal with crazy people. I simply said "okay" and got into my car. Crazy guy keeps walking, still shouting at me though I am in my car trying to find my sunglasses (I think I left them on the coffee table).

I start the car, drive down the alley where Crazy guy is and he sees me coming and holds his backpack like he's going to swing it. I just avoid hitting at him as he swears at me some more and says he should "smash your fucking car."

So here I am at my destination, working on an injury report that was reported several years after the fact, answering the phones and wondering if my bike will be tipped over when I get home. I'm not too worried if that's the case--I've knocked it over my self. What's more, I know how to get it back up again despite it being 1000 pounds. What I'm concerned with is that this guy actually has a truck and will run over the bike. That'd suck.

But again I'm not too worried. Usually if someone has a truck they are using it and not walking through an alley in flip flops and carrying a backpack.

Of course, I am going to go home as soon as possible to verify the state of my bike.

And maybe clean my rifle on my porch.

Mmmm.

-McK