Grumpy Biker

Yesterday the whole world seemed to be out to get me. It’s difficult to cite anyone particular thing at work or on the commute that wound me up, but I did manage to relieve much of the tension by blowing the crap out of lots of baddies on the XBOX360 at home. With imagination they looked a bit like the idiot in the grey Civic and other people who had made it into my bad books.

This morning the world still hated me and this was most vididly manifested in the form of the retarded driver of a black Ford Puma who indicated left, then turned right causing me to haul on the anchors and slide the bike speedway style to a stop to avoid getting t-boned. Dick. Head. Driver.

Tonight on the way home a bunch of three scallies were tailing an 18stone heffalump on an ultralight tricked out mountain bike groaning under his weight. I suspect they were eyeing the bike up and wondering of they had the guts to push him off it into the bushes and then ride off into the sunset on his bike. They were all riding on the pavement, which grated with my ‘why aren’t you riding on the road’ mentality.

Then there were the two scally kids walking along, one having recently liberated a front wheel and the other a saddle and seatpost off a bike. That was pretty blatant, but not unusual for inner city Manchester. The thing that really wound me up though was not that I met all the traffic lights on red, but that some roadie swine tailed me most of the way home, hovering just over my right shoulder. I shook him in the end by taking a bumper hugging right turn across the oncoming traffic in the wake of a fast moving Golf GTI. It was the highlight of my day.

Author: Cris Bloomfield

Usually mountain biking in the North.

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