February 3rd, 2010

Orange Vespa Huskyteer

Do I Smell Testosterone?

Bloke pulls up next to me at the lights this morning to say "Slow down, you're driving like a twat. You're not going to get there any faster, you're just going to get killed."

I thanked him for his concern in my poshest and most polite tones. I hope he was proud of himself for starting his day by swearing at a girl.

Ironically, I'm probably one of the slowest and most boring commuters out there, as I like a much wider safety margin than most London bikers seem to require. I don't squeeze myself up the inside of lorries. I don't stop in cycle boxes. I don't overtake other bikers while riding six inches from their left ear. I'm a very pedestrian motorcyclist.

I had gone past this dude a couple of times, true, but simply by looking ahead and selecting the right lane to be in and being nippy off the lights where it was safe and appropriate to do so. I suspect he was just cheesed off at being overtaken by a diddy scooter.

Him and his stupid moustache. Grr.

(If I get knocked off and killed on my way home tonight, you can all point and laugh.)