R
Richard
Guest
A part of my commute is a right turn on a steep hill with a lot of fast traffic. Being a lardy git,
I'm not exactly doing Warp Factor 10 up the hill. So I always glance back and stick out my arm in
good time waiting for some kind soul to acknowledge that the slow cyclist wants to move across the
lane to turn right. And invariably the sight of the outstretched right arm forces the poor drivers
to put their foot down and overtake, often laced with a liberal peppering of horn to keep the little
scrote back in the gutter where he belongs.
So last night I'm tootling home, and get to looking/signalling position. A quick glance and out goes
the arm, thoroughly expecting at least two or three cars to take that as 'please overtake'. But no!
Car slows right down, smoothly and evenly! No horn! I nearly fall off my bike with shock! I move
across, glancing once more to give a cheerful wave of thanks to my benefactor. Given that the Tour
de France doesn't often visit Sheffield, it must be that at least one normal bloke/ess off the
street has decided to be courteous to cyclists!
But sadly, my high hopes are dashed, crushed into the ground. My mystery benefactor was...a
police car.
Ah well. Perhaps I'll meet a courteous member of the public one day.
R.
I'm not exactly doing Warp Factor 10 up the hill. So I always glance back and stick out my arm in
good time waiting for some kind soul to acknowledge that the slow cyclist wants to move across the
lane to turn right. And invariably the sight of the outstretched right arm forces the poor drivers
to put their foot down and overtake, often laced with a liberal peppering of horn to keep the little
scrote back in the gutter where he belongs.
So last night I'm tootling home, and get to looking/signalling position. A quick glance and out goes
the arm, thoroughly expecting at least two or three cars to take that as 'please overtake'. But no!
Car slows right down, smoothly and evenly! No horn! I nearly fall off my bike with shock! I move
across, glancing once more to give a cheerful wave of thanks to my benefactor. Given that the Tour
de France doesn't often visit Sheffield, it must be that at least one normal bloke/ess off the
street has decided to be courteous to cyclists!
But sadly, my high hopes are dashed, crushed into the ground. My mystery benefactor was...a
police car.
Ah well. Perhaps I'll meet a courteous member of the public one day.
R.
