ROAD RAGE

All I wanted was to sleep being so tired from driving nine hours the last two days.
I went to photograph some grafitti she'd seen on a wall, north of Broadmead, as I took her to the station.
Rode the bike.
Towards one of the temporary junctions takes traffic through the demolition site I looked, signalled, manouvered, across the lane right of me. A dark blue Peugot Estate drove up very close behind me and then pulled up next to me getting closer pushing me and the bike into the steel fencing divides the contraflow.
I shouted, ‘oi, fuck off, fuck off,’ and jabbed my finger at the driver sat within three feet of me behind a window.
He opened the window said, ‘I didn’t touch you did I? Fuck off yourself.’
‘I’m on a bike you’re in a car, you fucking wanker, it’s alright for you, fuck off.’
The passenger door opened and a big man got out shouted, ‘you want to get hurt, you little prick?’
‘No I don’t, fuck off,’ I replied and rode the pedestrian route to the grafitti.