Road rage is nothing new, right?
We’ve all been on the receiving end of another driver’s unreasonable wrath at some point in our lives.
Heck, if we’re being honest, we’re all guilty of gobbing off at others when we’re behind the wheel at times.
But I’ve recently come across a new phenomena – well, it’s a new one on me.
It’s less vocal than your bog-standard driver on driver outburst but none the less unsettling when it happens to you.
Really it’s a cross between showing off and intolerance. And all its perpetrators wear Lycra.
Until recently, I’d only been on a bike a handful of times since school. Despite a big tick next to my cycling proficiency test I have no trouble admitting I’ve never been an expert.
The time I fell off going downhill while braking with one hand and holding a hat on my head with the other just about sums up my skills on a bike. Messy. Sometimes bloody.
I’m the only person I know who has recently sported scabs on her knees. A six-year-old lad would probably be proud but it’s a bit embarrassing when you’re in your thirties.
But you know what? I’m trying. Faced with the alarming cost of petrol and an office in easy-reach of our house, I’ve been getting to work using pedal-power. A 12-year-old has given me a crash course in how to use gears and I’ve got lights on my bike.
Yet despite the fact it’s obvious a mobility scooter moves quicker than me, there’s some cycling menaces who think they’re the kings of the road and I’m just a nuisance.
Your backside might look very pert in those cycling shorts but tutting as you go past will not make my legs move quicker. Riding closer to my back wheel will achieve nothing.
I understand cyclists are a funny bunch – how else do you explain the Tour de France? But there’s no need to fly past me so fast that my bike rocks.
Granted, I’ll never be one of you. I like doughnuts too much to wear barely there leggings in public. There probably is some bike etiquette I need to brush up on.
But would it slow you down too much to cut me some slack?