Bicycling angst
Now, I'm not really all that unlucky when it comes to bicycling. I've done a lot of seriously stupid off-roading, mostly in the lovely Pentland Hills around Edinburgh, and yet my neck is to this date unbroken. I've twisted ankles and rapped shins with the best of them, but in the main my accidents have been small.
Yesterday's incident reminded me of a similar thing that happened to me way back when I was still in short trousers. Biking up Kingsgate Street in Winchester, I was pretty much minding my own business when a bloke in a pick-up truck across the street shouted 'excuse me' and beckoned me over. Being a helpful sort, and assuming he needed directions, I crossed to do my good deed for the day.
To my horror and disgust, the rude fellow leant out of the window and spat in my face.
I've no idea why he picked on me - I'd never seen him before and was only one of several people cycling up and down the street. Wrong place and time, I suppose. He had, however, made one crucial error in his little act of petty vindictiveness.
Since I had been cycling in the opposite direction to the one he was travelling, and he was intent on making a fast getaway, all I needed to do was lean my handlebars a little closer to his shiny new pick-up truck. With a satisfying nails on blackboard sound I left a gouge in his paintwork about three feet long.
So be warned, you doers of random acts of nastiness. It will all come back to you in the end.
Yesterday's incident reminded me of a similar thing that happened to me way back when I was still in short trousers. Biking up Kingsgate Street in Winchester, I was pretty much minding my own business when a bloke in a pick-up truck across the street shouted 'excuse me' and beckoned me over. Being a helpful sort, and assuming he needed directions, I crossed to do my good deed for the day.
To my horror and disgust, the rude fellow leant out of the window and spat in my face.
I've no idea why he picked on me - I'd never seen him before and was only one of several people cycling up and down the street. Wrong place and time, I suppose. He had, however, made one crucial error in his little act of petty vindictiveness.
Since I had been cycling in the opposite direction to the one he was travelling, and he was intent on making a fast getaway, all I needed to do was lean my handlebars a little closer to his shiny new pick-up truck. With a satisfying nails on blackboard sound I left a gouge in his paintwork about three feet long.
So be warned, you doers of random acts of nastiness. It will all come back to you in the end.
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