Passing Distance

i haven’t had car rage today, aside from the usual simmering resentment at people who drive within about a metre. unfortunately this happens so often that i’ve become almost blase about it. it takes a real close shave to make me gesticulate furiously, but the car driver never notices, which is probably a good thing because they’re always borderline psychopaths. belle was riding through Bristol this morning and she got shouted at by just such a moron. i don’t get what it is that possesses someone to shout at a cyclist. all i know is that they have no empathy or understanding of the vulnerability of people on bikes – or how shocking it is to have 130kg of angry man in 3 tons of metal shout loudly and aggressively. we all go the same way, it’s just that some of us have dreadfully bitter experiences along the road to oblivion and clearly feel obliged to share these with others.

anyway, it was reassuring to see that even the mighty G has similar issues:

in other news, i brazenly took advantage of a monstrous tailwind to set a quick time on a strava segment. cheeky, but what the hell. i shudder to think what i might have done if not tired. yesterday took it out of me. graham douchebag has also been suckered into the evil machinations of strava, he is also now embarking on the ‘pj diet, eat little, ride lots’. i fear kieran may also be following this path of ascetic athleticism. god help us all. i blame strava, especially the power to weight readings.

i won’t repost the ‘shit cyclists say’ video because it’s been reposted a gazillion times elsewhere (it’s a worth a google if you haven’t been sent it three billion times already by all your cycling buddies), and i try to avoid reposts, and belle said it’s like that in our house, and not in a good way. but i will repost the picture below, to go back to the original point. thanks to jeff jones for this one: