I found a bicycle yesterday, sitting by the side of the road. I, being a curious sort, stopped and walked over to it to see why it was there and what it was doing, bright and shiny, seeming brand new. It spoke to me in soothing tones until I took it's handlebars in my hands with a lover's touch. How was I to know that it was a rogue bull Cannondale, sitting there patiently, waiting for someone just as foolish as myself to walk near. How was I to know that it had been programmed by thousands, nay, millions of years of evolution to become the ultimate urban hunter-killer?