This past week I had a brief encounter with a cabbie, having allowed my bike to kiss his taxi. Turning, I could see the scowl rapidly forming behind the windshield. I stopped and returned the favour,
uncharacteristically. He got out. I waited. He rounded the car and scanned for damage. There was none, thanks to the fact that my bar ends were carbon fibre, which I pointed out to him. The situation defused rapidly and we both laughed over it. A few seconds later he came close to nudging me, rolled down his window, and said with a smile "Now it's my turn to bump you." I suppose some people might find that intimidating, but it's hard to when I spend so much time in cozy proximity with all those full metal jackets.
Not the cabbie in question. This one was waiting on a critical mess
