Statistic

Yet another cyclist, yet another friend, has been shrugged off the road by an unseeing, uncaring pseudo-human driving a tribute to American Excess and "farm-equipment" tax breaks; four tons of custom Silverado with an acre of custom bent tubing for a bumper. I suppose it's needed to protect that truck from the hazards on the ranches so prevalent in Cambridge, Mass. Like messengers, wrenches, and welders.
My friend is okay, hence the "shrugged". A little sore and a lot pissed off, but physically undamaged. The behemoth slid out of the depths, catching her rear wheel with the afore-mentioned bumper, driving her to the sidewalk in its wake like so much flotsam. And continued on its way, completely oblivious to anything but its own course.
There are many of these malevolent beasts on the road today. The present power structure encouraged the consumers, then whispered even larger platforms to the manufacturers, creating a self-replicating cycle. Trucks in this country have become our Borg; resistance is futile you will be assimilated.
So tonight I toast my friend with an ESB, a touch of kine, and a steaming Shepherd's Pi.