My Number One Son lives, works, and goes to school in downtown Chicago. He gets around on his bike. That is, he gets around on his bike when you people aren't hitting him with your cars.
Yes, it's happened again. On Friday evening, one of you ripped out of an alley without checking the cross-traffic. You almost hit my son, but he was able to swerve and hit a parked car, instead. You stopped briefly, making eye-contact with him as he sprawled across the curb gasping for breath, dizzy from the pain of a broken rib, and then you drove away.
Just like last time, my kid was riding safely and legally on a downtown Chicago street. If you people can't control your cars any better than this, maybe you had better park them before you kill somebody.
Don't make me come over there.