Went out for a quick little after-work bike ride Monday night… a 20-mile jaunt down through town and back. While riding down the main drag in Squirrel Hill, I was stopped at a light. The light going the other way turned green, and a cute little old black man, replete in a slightly worn suit and a beret started to cross the street. A young guy turning left nearly hit the man, and then sped off. The man was so incensed, that he actually yelled “Crazy Cracka!” at the departing car. I was dumbfounded; I thought that sort of thing only happend in blacksploitation movies.