Sometimes you feel like a nut,

Taw-rana.

If you noticed a bitter scent in the air last night it’s probably because the nuts were out in full force.

I was walking up Queen West to pick up some dinner for S and I when I came across a little tiff between a bicyclist and a car driver, who’d nearly had a collision with each other.

Both were fine, but a largish crowd had gathered to watch the sparks fly between the two combatants.

The cyclist was gamely trying to explain what had happened to the slack-jawed rubberneckers, such as myself, while the dick in the car was calling the cyclist, and anyone else who attempted to step in, a p@ssy. From what I could tell the car had apparently gotten a little to close to the biker and nearly run him into a parked car. Having biked that narrow stretch of road lots of times, I fully understand that danger.

The crowd was nearly as colourful as the shouting match, throwing in their two cents and trying to instigate some sort of showdown between the two of them, you could tell that more than a few onlookers were hoping for a physical confrontation.

Anyway, I didn’t see who did what, so I can’t lay blame at anyone’s feet. But I will say that the driver of the car didn’t seem too interested in any sort of a balanced conversation. He was quite content to just rage at the world in general.

With the heat wave that’s supposed to be rolling through town just in time for the annual Toronto Caribana Festival I suspect that these kinds of fiery confrontations are going to become commonplace over the next couple of days.

Which is precisely why I’m blowing this popsicle stand.