Portland friend calls me up all flustered. Apparently, he got called the N-word by a dude in a car. The way he tells it, he'd been riding behind some delivery truck in a residential area, the truck came to a stop sign and my friend was gonna hang a left so he pulls to the left of the truck but stays behind to wait for the truck to continue. But the truck don't move.
The truck driver apparently expects mi amigo to pull up ahead and make the turn and so he waits and waits and then starts yelling. Amigo doesn't know what's going on, but the dude in the truck is swearing up a storm, like, "What? you gonna f#$kin' hit me with your bike lock?!!"
Amigo is like, "Um...are you talking to me?"
Truck driver, "Yeah I'm talking to you! GO ALREADY! GO!"
At this point, amigo (who's usually the person to do the fight picking) is nonplussed for as he puts it, "The guy could have put it in reverse and backed over me." So amigo starts moving away from the truck. Truck driver is way agitated now and people are starting to look and gesture to move as it's just a stop sign - That's when yells out, "YOU F@#KIN N*GGER!" and screeches away.
Amigo is like, whoah as he relates this to me over the phone.
I'm like whoah, dude, did he realize you're white?
Amigo: I believe so. I do have a beard now though, I kinda look like Jesus.
Me: I mean, I know you grew up in Peedro so you got soul, but you do also look like a Confederate general when you had your lambchops...
Amigo: I do have a black brother in law...but yeah, the whole thing was weird. The guy was freakin' crazy.
Me: You sure he didn't call you cracka?
Amigo: Nah, I mean, I guess he thought it was the worse thing he could call me. Cracka doesn't have the same gravity.
Me: True dat you cracka ass cracka.
Amigo: Shut yo' Mexican ass up.
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