This morning I fought off potholes, bad driving and road crud as I pedalled into work. I did the commute in the standard half hour and apart from getting annoyed by the weather (too cold not to wear a jacket but you're well sweaty when you get to work) the ride was unremarkable.
Having gone unpadded yesterday I was mightily relieved to be back in my Gorewear leggings with their ergonomic protection for lady bits. You think a bit of foam wouldn't make that much difference but when you hit that speed bump you feel the love.
But anyhoo so there I was, speeding along despite the wind when there he stood. His bead-like eyes staring at me. He was like a statue, daring me to a game of chicken, ignoring the irony that he was, in fact, a pigeon.
I set a course and put my head down to charge. He remained still, serene in the morning breeze, seemingly unaware of my ability to squash him with barely a bump. He stared into me... then... suddenly, he was away, jumping up towards my face and flapping towards me in a mess of feathers and rage.
I squealed and swerved a bit to avoid him then he was gone... to where nobody knows.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Monday, 23 November 2009
The weenie photo competition
What is this? (Answer below)Answer: A man in a jaguar reading what looked like a medical journal as he drove up one of the busiest sections of the Uxbridge Road on Friday night. So engrossed was he that he didn't even look over when the flash on my camera went off.
Apologies for the blurry quality but he was actually moving at the time, yes driving while reading what a marvellous time saving idea.
Wet feet
I'm sure the rain wasn't that heavy when I looked out of my window and decided to cycle to work.
Huge ploppy raindrops yes but not that many were falling and it didn't seem that wet. How wrong I was. As I stopped for the billionth time to wipe my glasses I realised I was a very rare breed on the road. There weren't may cyclists at all and the rain seeping through my leggings was why.
The mist and rain fogged my glasses so I stopped regularly to clean them, I tried to avoid as many puddles as possible and pootled as the rain had affected my braking somewhat. Cars were, on the whole, quite considerate although there were a couple of nobbers who weren't looking. As my last accident was in rain I was in my high-vis the whole way and was extra careful at junctions and where there where blind turns.
I was warm throughout and, actually, the only part of me that got REALLY wet was my feet and I have spare shoes at home anyway. I also have waterproof socks for the journey home.
Sooooooo, the critical commuting question is: would you rather get wet and sweaty in a crammed tube carriage or get wet feet?
No contest really.
Huge ploppy raindrops yes but not that many were falling and it didn't seem that wet. How wrong I was. As I stopped for the billionth time to wipe my glasses I realised I was a very rare breed on the road. There weren't may cyclists at all and the rain seeping through my leggings was why.
The mist and rain fogged my glasses so I stopped regularly to clean them, I tried to avoid as many puddles as possible and pootled as the rain had affected my braking somewhat. Cars were, on the whole, quite considerate although there were a couple of nobbers who weren't looking. As my last accident was in rain I was in my high-vis the whole way and was extra careful at junctions and where there where blind turns.
I was warm throughout and, actually, the only part of me that got REALLY wet was my feet and I have spare shoes at home anyway. I also have waterproof socks for the journey home.
Sooooooo, the critical commuting question is: would you rather get wet and sweaty in a crammed tube carriage or get wet feet?
No contest really.
Friday, 20 November 2009
Learning not to swear
This morning an incredibly naughty E2 double decker nearly squooshed me.
I was in the right-hand lane because I knew that the E2 route demanded he go left and I didn't want to be in the way. I was happily tootling along when he indicated right, 'Fine,' I thought, ' he's probably pulling out round a parked car or summat but as I'm halfway up the side of the bus surely he'll wait until I'm clear, surely in my bright yellow Sam Brown and bright clothing he can see me.'
I was wrong. He pulled straight across me and I emergency stopped and had to waddle Reg backwards a bit to avoid being smacked by his rear end. He then swung back into the left lane from whence he came.
But justice prevailed. He had to stop at a light.
I pulled up to his window with a hearty 'Oi!'.
'You do NOT pull out right when there is a cyclist halfway up your bus!
'CHECK YOUR MIRRORS!'
It was snarly I'll admit but at no point did I swear. The bus driver looked around 60 years old and a bit frightened to be confronted by the raging weenie beast. No point in swearing really, point was made. I then swept away in a dignified and snooty manner.
Harumph!
I was in the right-hand lane because I knew that the E2 route demanded he go left and I didn't want to be in the way. I was happily tootling along when he indicated right, 'Fine,' I thought, ' he's probably pulling out round a parked car or summat but as I'm halfway up the side of the bus surely he'll wait until I'm clear, surely in my bright yellow Sam Brown and bright clothing he can see me.'
I was wrong. He pulled straight across me and I emergency stopped and had to waddle Reg backwards a bit to avoid being smacked by his rear end. He then swung back into the left lane from whence he came.
But justice prevailed. He had to stop at a light.
I pulled up to his window with a hearty 'Oi!'.
'You do NOT pull out right when there is a cyclist halfway up your bus!
'CHECK YOUR MIRRORS!'
It was snarly I'll admit but at no point did I swear. The bus driver looked around 60 years old and a bit frightened to be confronted by the raging weenie beast. No point in swearing really, point was made. I then swept away in a dignified and snooty manner.
Harumph!
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Wind glorious wind and playing with lorries
No not farting, but the weather phenomenon that causes cyclists everywhere to wince or rejoice depending on the direction in which it's blowing. I was wincing.
It came head on for some of the journey and, although annoying I didn't get too het up. I changed down a gear and put my head down. It was when I went past open ground that it became a problem.
On city roads with high buildings it's easy to forget the waves of air that roll across you and attempt to turn your bike into the side of that attractive looking lorry. Going past Ealing Common was very exciting for all the wrong reasons as I gripped Reg's handlebars, slowed down and wrested him back under my control. It was for this reason that I didn't really take much note of my fellow commuters, until Acton that is.
A very large lorry was in front of me and I decided to stay far back. The junction in question has a possible left turn and people often don't indicate until the last minute or at all because of the filtering lanes. Plus my view of the traffic lights was blocked by said lorry so I couldn't gauge the speed of traffic and predict it's movements. I sat behind basking in the warm and comforting swirl of exhaust.
A middle/older aged lady came past on her shopper. She then went up the left side of the enormous lorry binging as she went. Binging that was barely audible above the heavy thrum of the lorry's engine, certainly not audible to its driver. I looked on in abject horror fearing imminent squishage. I reasoned with myself, perhaps she was going left, that would be ok, especially as the lorry was now indicating left. I actually held my breath.
The lights changed and the lorry turned left I looked ahead and was incredulous to see lady binger straight ahead. She had undertaken a left-turning huge lorry in its blind spot and wasn't even going left. I said nothing as I overtook her. My feeling wasn't anger it was immense relief on the lorry driver's behalf.
That lorry would have squished her without the driver even feeling a bump. He would've lived with that forever even though he probably couldn't have done anything to prevent it if she'd been in a blind spot.
Phew.
It came head on for some of the journey and, although annoying I didn't get too het up. I changed down a gear and put my head down. It was when I went past open ground that it became a problem.
On city roads with high buildings it's easy to forget the waves of air that roll across you and attempt to turn your bike into the side of that attractive looking lorry. Going past Ealing Common was very exciting for all the wrong reasons as I gripped Reg's handlebars, slowed down and wrested him back under my control. It was for this reason that I didn't really take much note of my fellow commuters, until Acton that is.
A very large lorry was in front of me and I decided to stay far back. The junction in question has a possible left turn and people often don't indicate until the last minute or at all because of the filtering lanes. Plus my view of the traffic lights was blocked by said lorry so I couldn't gauge the speed of traffic and predict it's movements. I sat behind basking in the warm and comforting swirl of exhaust.
A middle/older aged lady came past on her shopper. She then went up the left side of the enormous lorry binging as she went. Binging that was barely audible above the heavy thrum of the lorry's engine, certainly not audible to its driver. I looked on in abject horror fearing imminent squishage. I reasoned with myself, perhaps she was going left, that would be ok, especially as the lorry was now indicating left. I actually held my breath.
The lights changed and the lorry turned left I looked ahead and was incredulous to see lady binger straight ahead. She had undertaken a left-turning huge lorry in its blind spot and wasn't even going left. I said nothing as I overtook her. My feeling wasn't anger it was immense relief on the lorry driver's behalf.
That lorry would have squished her without the driver even feeling a bump. He would've lived with that forever even though he probably couldn't have done anything to prevent it if she'd been in a blind spot.
Phew.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Back on the bike
So...
I dropped Reg at the shop on Friday and was quoted £30. If it was more than that they'd give me a ring before work started on it I was told, it'll be fine I was told. Imagine my dismay when I rang them only to be told the price was coming in at around £75 and the work had been done.
I was livid.
I charged in there ready for a fight. I sighed, I was silently unimpressed and resentful and my voice got subtly louder when another customer came in. I got £15 knocked ff the bill. Result. Especially since they had to change the rear braking mechanism and had done the gears etc.
I didn't bike to music school as the weather was abysmal and looked forward to a foray on a tandem on Monday when disaster struck. CC, my tandem partner, caught the bug that's going round. I was forced to Christmas shop instead.
Nowhere near as fun. Sigh.
Was back on Reg this morning with VERY heavy panniers full of music for a rehearsal tonight. We tootled in and even with the extra weight and me being knackered from my idiot neighbours messing around all night we sped past several fellow cyclists.
Perhaps it's a way of a higher power telling me the only twosome I should be involved with is Reg and me.
I dropped Reg at the shop on Friday and was quoted £30. If it was more than that they'd give me a ring before work started on it I was told, it'll be fine I was told. Imagine my dismay when I rang them only to be told the price was coming in at around £75 and the work had been done.
I was livid.
I charged in there ready for a fight. I sighed, I was silently unimpressed and resentful and my voice got subtly louder when another customer came in. I got £15 knocked ff the bill. Result. Especially since they had to change the rear braking mechanism and had done the gears etc.
I didn't bike to music school as the weather was abysmal and looked forward to a foray on a tandem on Monday when disaster struck. CC, my tandem partner, caught the bug that's going round. I was forced to Christmas shop instead.
Nowhere near as fun. Sigh.
Was back on Reg this morning with VERY heavy panniers full of music for a rehearsal tonight. We tootled in and even with the extra weight and me being knackered from my idiot neighbours messing around all night we sped past several fellow cyclists.
Perhaps it's a way of a higher power telling me the only twosome I should be involved with is Reg and me.
Friday, 13 November 2009
Tube in the rain
Eugh, this morning I took ... the tube.
With Reg in the shop I had no option. I managed to cadge a lift to the local Piccadilly line station and climbed aboard for a three-stop ride.
First I realised I had no money on my Oyster card, so I duly topped it up before stepping through the gates. I near slid down the stairs coated in the muddy slime of thousands of shoes before getting onto the platform. What met me was a scene reminiscent of Shaun of the Dead. Zombified commuters stood around looking depressed and avoiding each others' eyes. Many were shuffled near the edge of the covered section ready to dash though the raindrops in an attempt to reach the less crowded carriages once the train arrived. I joined them.
The train came in, already packed and with windows steamed up with the germs of those inside. The mass clamber began as people tried, with forced, and very British, politeness to push past each other and get to the slightly emptier carriages.
I managed to get on and memory served me with the method for folding a Metro twice to get it as tiny as possible so you can read it without bumping anyone.
At the next station more and more people oozed into the carriage until you couldn't actually move. Then at Acton Town an announcement said the train on the opposite platform was leaving first. Cue a mad dash to cross the four metres of wet asphalt with men in suits battling teenagers in skinny jeans. I stayed where I was knowing from my dark commuter past that it only saves about two minutes in the long run and I only had one stop to go.
I got to Hammersmith and joined the queue to climb the stairs. I escaped the tube and limped into McDonalds exhausted by it all.
God I miss my bike.
With Reg in the shop I had no option. I managed to cadge a lift to the local Piccadilly line station and climbed aboard for a three-stop ride.
First I realised I had no money on my Oyster card, so I duly topped it up before stepping through the gates. I near slid down the stairs coated in the muddy slime of thousands of shoes before getting onto the platform. What met me was a scene reminiscent of Shaun of the Dead. Zombified commuters stood around looking depressed and avoiding each others' eyes. Many were shuffled near the edge of the covered section ready to dash though the raindrops in an attempt to reach the less crowded carriages once the train arrived. I joined them.
The train came in, already packed and with windows steamed up with the germs of those inside. The mass clamber began as people tried, with forced, and very British, politeness to push past each other and get to the slightly emptier carriages.
I managed to get on and memory served me with the method for folding a Metro twice to get it as tiny as possible so you can read it without bumping anyone.
At the next station more and more people oozed into the carriage until you couldn't actually move. Then at Acton Town an announcement said the train on the opposite platform was leaving first. Cue a mad dash to cross the four metres of wet asphalt with men in suits battling teenagers in skinny jeans. I stayed where I was knowing from my dark commuter past that it only saves about two minutes in the long run and I only had one stop to go.
I got to Hammersmith and joined the queue to climb the stairs. I escaped the tube and limped into McDonalds exhausted by it all.
God I miss my bike.
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