Here’s a copy and paste from a Facebook post. Not quite Shakespearean, but a satisfying rant:
I’ve had a couple days now to process the most memorable moment of my 101 mile bike ride on Friday. About 90 miles in I was southbound at the old Bundy’s gravel pit on co. Rt 23 between Sherb 4 and n. Norwich. A huge red dump truck rolled up to pull out of the driveway, then stopped to let me pass. After I passed he (just a guess) pulled out and accelerated to a position about 8 feet behind me. I was on the edge of the pavement and so was he, directly lined up to run over me. Wide open 2 lanes, no oncoming traffic. He then LAID on the air horn and swung around me, driving me into the gravel and missing me by about 3 feet. Too scared and rattled (and tired) to get a license#. Red truck, and I’d be willing to go $100 I could smell Trump stink coming out of the cab. Intolerance and bullying abuse of any and all who don’t conform 100% to their puny lifestyle. Fuck you. Sharpen up your rebel flag staff and drive it into your skull. Let the Klan culture drip out so the flies can get at it.
mykwerks 
Posted by Roderick Robinson on August 30, 2016 at 1:24 am
Not that I want truth, you understand. I can be just as entertained by a well-honed – even feverish – imagination. But here’s a guy who took a quite serious bike ride, finding himself persecuted by a redneck. That should have been almost enough for me; I shudder, seeing myself on that bike, and I take things to the point where the redneck and I have words and he finds out I come from one of those sissy places where they do a lot of talking and reading. And nuthin’ much else. In the movie he’s played by Ernest Borgnine.
But if the dump truck is (metaphorically speaking) recognisably Trump-driven, how about the bike? Or in that neck of the woods are all bikes ridden by pointy-headed intellectuals, with their brief-cases, whom Gov. Wallace long long ago said he would toss into the Potomac once he got elected president? Or was the bike rider wearing a Hilary sticker? Or a Ralph Lauren polo-neck? In short, what was going on in the dump truck driver’s mind? If anything.
Just did something I didn’t ought to. Watched a TV documentary by a well-respected BBC correspondent on Donald Trump, Can he possibly get elected? Remember all those Trump one-liners you’ve seen and heard randomly on TV news? Here they were woven into an elegant montage: simple, mendacious but utterly persuasive to the sort of people whose lips move when they read. A recognisable and coherent political philosophy. My jaw dropped and stayed dropped. Later the reporter asked one quite normal resident of Ohio’s Rust Belt: “Is he going to win?” The resident shrugged: “Oh sure, by a landslide.”
Tell me it ain’t so, MikeM. Puh-lease.
Posted by mykwerks on August 30, 2016 at 7:13 am
No, we’re going to crush him like a cockroach. I held my middle finger aloft until the SOB was out of sight. Couldn’t lure him back. Not sure what I would have done if he had stopped to chat. A kamikazee run entered my mind immediately, as did the epithet most widely recognized here in the US as the MOST degrogatory and unacceptable. I also considered fleeing if he stopped.