Cycling to work today, I fell in behind a bunch of guys
six, maybe eight of them, who must have been on a training
ride. This was on the B5095 (Manchester Road) between Parr's Wood
and Cheadle Village, just south of Manchester at about 09:15.
They were riding identical tricked-out carbon Treks, all
wearing identical red, white and blue lycra with "Great
Britain" plastered all over it, all trying (and mainly
failing) to perform track stands at stops and red lights.
And, for what it's worth, they were wearing identical
polystyrene hats.*
Stopped at one set of lights, one of the clones is trying
his hardest to avoid having his foot touch tarmac. He's
gradually creeping across the road, until he's placed
diagonally in the centre of the lane in front of the queue
of vehicles. He's spending so much time examining the ground
beneath his feet and his stance w.r.t the horizon that he
doesn't notice that the lights have changed.
Several seconds pass. This jackass is holding up the lane of
traffic, which includes *me*, while he preens and poses. I
know these lights well, and I know that you get a few scant
seconds before they change and the major flow of traffic off
the main road gets priority for a long, long time. And I'm
in danger of being late for work.
A horn sounds from the foremost car and our bold equilibrist
awakes and damn near falls off his bike. Then like any
buffoon who's pride has been wounded he spews a tirade of
abuse. Not content with verbal attacks, the water bottle
comes out of the cage and a hefty squirt is applied to the
windscreen of the car as it passes. Not much fun if you're
keen on seeing where you're going.
I was and am disgusted by the arrogance and lack of
consideration shown by this guy. What an absolute *[censored]*. I
do hope he or one of his riding companions reads this.
Vic.
*And they weren't going very fast at all, the posers!