They call me chief bikethatpullscart

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you ride around on your "bikethatpullsacart" all day with your bro-ish baseball hat, staring like a creeper at all the girls. Well, turns out, not only are you a creeper, but an asshole. I didn't have any interest in talking to you and you took it upon yourself to pompously tell me while biking alongside that I need to get a light for my bike even though I have fucking reflectors and then proceed to ask me if I can "go faster." Yeah I can fucking go faster, you douchebag. But not because you ask me to. Then to further your already shot-to-hell case, the next night you try and tell me how to fucking park my car next to your fat "bikethatpullsacart" ass on King St. Should have shoved you out of the way. Maybe I will next time.

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