A Sorry Sight

My father sold insurance, and many of his clients lived in the roughest parts of town.
He kept under the driver’s seat a three-foot length of black telephone wire cable,
a grip of wound electrical tape around one end as a handle.
Twice now during the pandemic, stopped at an intersection for a red light,
I’ve experienced random strangers coming up to my window and yelling at me.
I’ve been driving 50 years, yet never has this happened in the past.
I can’t hear exactly what they’ve said before the light changes,
my windows rolled up, AC blowing, music playing,
but the visual explosion in my face stuns and numbs me.
Neither laid a hand on my car, apparently this behavior some kind of venting.
But when I wait at lights now, I am wary of all pedestrians.
I doubt they can see the baseball bat riding with me in the passenger seat.