The People I'm Next To Are Much Faster Than Me Due To A Thousand Tiny Explosions

The people I'm next to are in a grey minivan. I was riding my bike uphill, not a steep hill, but long and constant. At least that's what I say to make myself feel better about feeling winded while riding up it. Just as I was reaching the top, the grey minivan zoomed past me, and in the brief moment when we were next to each other I heard a fleeting yell. The yell contained the words; bike, you and stupid. Those were the few I could hear, and they were enough to enrage my oxygen starved frame. I am rarely able to use the word incensed, so I am excited about this next short sentence. I was incensed.
Now I was going downhill and they were coming up on a red light, so I was excited to catch up to them and give them a harsh glare, or maybe even an impolite hand gesture. But the treacherous light turned green right as they were arriving. But, now I have purpose, and more importantly momentum, so the chase continues. I think damning thoughts about the combustion engine, and the cookies I am terribly addicted too. Then a break, another red light. Oh sublime and joyous fate, you are with me today!
I catch them, I catch that bastard wagon of judgmental hate. I prepare my glare, my bird flipping finger itches to be released. I turn my wrathful seething gaze on the grey minivan's passengers, but before I can release their just and righteous doom in word and gesture, I see something that gives me pause. Its a family of five, probably one of the kids yelled at me.
I guess that's pretty ok.

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