Hahaha!
There was a cycle-path crossing point just after a fast, busy roundabout on my way home from where I used to work, a long, long time ago. I used to get sick of stopping my pushbike and standing there for ages in the rain, not knowing who was coming off the roundabout because none of the suckers would indicate properly. One day, I got sufficiently pissed off that I decided i was going to teach one of the buggers a lesson.
I spotted a likely target as I was approaching the crossing, haring off the roundabout at speed, no indication. I hit the crossing at running speed, not making any show of looking where I was going and, at the very last moment possible, grabbed the seat with my right hand and simply stepped off the back of the bike, the bike flying forward an arms length onto the crossing and then swinging up onto its rear tyre. By this point I was holding eye contact with the driver's passenger who *shat* herself and slapped the driver. Job done.
Looking back, it was bloody irresponsible, and I don't recall whether I checked for traffic behind him or anything sensible. I had more testosterone then, and less sense. But her face was priceless.
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