I got into a physical altercation with a hambeast and lived I am a year-round cyclist; I know the ins and outs of what is against the law concerning cycling and what isn't, and today a sub-human tried something that is very much illegal on me. While I was riding home from the gym, I was coming down a road with a bend in it that went for a few blocks after the bend and then came to an end at a stop sign where you either turned left or right onto the next street. Despite having earbuds in to prevent this from happening (still quiet enough to hear motorists, their horns, etc.), I hear a deafening shriek from my left. In front of me I see someone's head poking out of the rear right passenger window, who promptly ducked back in and rolled the window back up. They blitzed around the corner and I thought that I would never get to confront them or even get the plate number. I was so fortunately wrong. As they tore rubber down the rest of the street and through the stop sign, they also happened to pull right into the driveway of the house across from it. Immediately I picked up the pace and got to the driveway as soon as they were getting out to shout at them (or whoever was in that seat) for intentionally attempting to endanger a cyclist. Who plucks up to take "responsibility" but the fattest of them all. Horrible blonde dye job, stained grey t-shirt and sweatpants, dart in hand. Your classic fat beast redneck. She insisted that they were simply squealing singing, maybe particularly loudly, but I pressed that it was clearly intentional because I didn't hear their "singing" coming from behind me and they also rolled up the window immediately after. I swore to her that if I ever caught that shit again, I would knock her over like the cow that she is, and apparently, true to fat mentality, she wanted that now. So like a wild boar she charged at where I was on the sidewalk (not accurately enough to say she really aimed for me) and I kept her at bay because, despite what my over-sized hand-me-down jacket might imply, I am not the stereotypical beanpole cyclist, and eventually I shoved her off to the side. Which side? The lip of the driveway side. She lost her balance on the lip, ankle gave out, and she went tumbling onto the wet pavement. I took the opportunity to grab my bike and beat it while she rolled around like a pig in mud, but I got to hear the sweet sound of her screeching obscenities because she clearly couldn't catch me if she wanted to. I will never understand fats, but at least she burned some calories.