Ride to work today. Get to a set of lights on red. Eye up the competition for the race to the next set. A number 42 Stagecoach, a black cab and a traffic warden on a Honda Scooter. The lights change. I crank up the 53:15, the scooter gets a quicker off, but we’ve left the bus and cab far behind. A few metres later I’ve caught the scooter back up. I cruise up along side on the inside. I look across. He looks back.
It’s like something out of the Fast and the Furious or should that be Meet the Parents? A non verbal competition has been made. I look ahead and put the hammer down, he buries the throttle. In a second I’ve pulled away, winding it up, sprinting out of the saddle I drop it down the block and gun it through the next lights which are on green and the ones after that. Now I need to change lanes into the outside one, for my turn off. I look over my right shoulder and I’ve put in a 30m gap to my petrol fuelled comrade. Sweet.
I tell thee. Marmalade sandwiches for breakfast are the food of champions. Champions of the traffic light sprint that is.
Catia’s dropped me an email. She’s concerned about the fact that Fisher Price have made what appears to be a turbo trainer linked to a TV for kids. As she rightly points out, this is surreal, shouldn’t kids pedal in the open air, get all muddy and come back home with a few bruises? The again after last night’s Top Gear, may be it isn’t safe to go out on the streets in large portions of the US anymore.
R O T H A R . C O M 