As I rode to work the other morning, I spotted a plastic cup flying around in the drafts from traffic. I was briefly reminded of the flying plastic bag in "American Beauty." Seconds later, it flew up into the air and smacked me in the face. A plastic cup at 70+ miles per hour, incidentally, makes quite an impact. I was glad for full-face protection.
Moving on, this morning I rolled to a stop for a red light just a little bit a white cargo van in the next lane. The passenger window was down. Seconds later, I heard a dog barking at head level. I ignored it as well as I could, though I had a bit of a headache and "yapping dog" isn't my favorite sound when I feel like the helmet is the only thing keeping my head from popping.
Then the driver of the van pulled up a bit so his damn barking dog was right next to my head. I gave the driver my best "do you really want to fuck with a biker before he's had his coffee?" look, and scooted forward a bit so his frickin' labradoodle or whatever it was wouldn't rupture my eardrums.
One of the advantages of riding a motorcycle is that the rider isn't looking through a window at the scene - he or she is right in it. Sometimes, though, that's not really the greatest thing.
It's all just part of the adventure.