“I don’t want to hit you, bro.”

Latino guy in a suped up classic mid-century American car pulls up left of me at a red light. I’m on my 150cc Kymco scooter and I’ve decidedly parked it towards the center-left of my lane (operative words MY LANE) so that I wouldn’t block any vehicles wanting to make a right at the corner.
Dude, who’s darkened window is coolly rolled down just about 1/4 way leans over his passenger seat and starts barking at me: “hey, I don’t want to hit you, bro. Why you so far in the middle? You need to pull over more.”
So immediately the gent is showing how much he cares about my safety and is informing me that somehow he might not have enough control over his vehicle while pulling up to a traffic light. I guess??
He keeps repeating the same message about ME needing to be careful and him┬ánot wanting to run me over, just changing the words up a bit here n there. I can barely get a word in but when he finally takes a breath I look at him and say “then don’t.”
More barking. I finally say “hey, you asked me a question. Do you want to hear the answer or not?”
He looks a bit surprised and even offended at the audacity of some punk on a little scooter to have any words with him at all.
The man is still gabbing as I explain my conscious positioning. Doubt he listened. Light turns green and I go.
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