He drives an H3 Hummer, I drive a ’67 Vespa. We’ve seen each other before. And by that I mean have shared some insults, made threats, screamed a few expletives… and he did try to kill me… once. We’ve shared these things in the way people do, in the city, anonymously. Confident that amidst the masses we’d never interact in any other way than through a grossly oversized SUV window.

This particular H3 Hummer seems to take a rather personal disdain for my presence on the city streets. Its size and demeanor suggests an aggressive stance that no vehicle – no matter how small – should infringe upon the pavement that it has claimed as its own. This particular H3 Hummer has on many an occasion cinched off the narrow thoroughfare known as the bike lane – its driver grinning menacingly at me in the side mirrors, daring me to try and scoot by.

This particular Hummer has told me quite specifically over the past few weeks that I am a “Douchebag” an “Asshole”, “Not a bike”, “Fag” and the all encompassing “Stupid Fuck”. I can see why he doesn’t like me. As no further explanation is needed than the vehicles we choose to drive.

I make assumptions. I see him driving his H3 Hummer and I see a man who needed the largest size car he could find, despite the common concept that an H3 Hummer is a joke. It’s a huge shell of overcompensation that houses little power. The lowest priced option in a family of vehicles. A vehicle that scoffs at ever-increasing fuel costs, scorns the need to parallel park and solves no problem that the city commute may offer. All in all, there simply isn’t any reason to own this car in the city of Chicago. Even the base concept that it compensates for a miniscule penis seems erroneous as the vehicle is such a laughable cock substitute that anyone would assume a rodent sized member.

But let’s be fair, this driver must be making equal and opposite assumptions about me as well. My ’67 Vespa Sprint is not pretty. It’s rusty and dented, makes funny noises and smells. Does he consider me poor or just a hipster? – (unfortunately both are true). Does he assume I overpaid for my vintage ride or that I sweat over greasy parts every weekend? - (yep, both are also true).

But, as I said, we’ve seen each other before. Which begs the question – where am I seeing him now? And that is the issue.

This morning, I saw him pulling out of his parking spot in the alley behind my house, and he saw me.

In this moment of mutual recognition the anonymous nature of our city relationship falls away. We are now neighbors. People who most certainly will see each other again. People who will be forced to interact. People who now have to behave around each other within acceptable social norms – or face confrontation – the very thing that city dwellers seek most to avoid.

It’s amazing the power one feels with being anonymous. But it’s gone now. This H3 Hummer has now been anchored to a place – with unfortunate proximity to my home. Somehow I have a feeling we won’t be screaming and swearing at each other through factory tinted windows anymore.

I miss him already.

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