Author Topic: A Proper Cyclist

sam

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A Proper Cyclist
« on: July 08, 2005 »


from A Proper Cyclist, Cycling Plus magazine issue #173
There’s a concert in the middle of my head, right where the earbuds put it, loud and sweet. I’m spinning down Oxford Street in London, occasionally possessed by the urge to conduct - as if AC/DC would take my direction anyway. The pavements are consumer conveyor belts unable to hold all their cargo, which is spilling into traffic. Everyone's searching for the path of least resistance. Moving in the same direction and about three inches to my left is a towering red Metrosaurus. There’s another one to the right charging straight at me. I’m on the DOT-painted borderline, my body split into two jurisdictions. I inhale sharply, automatically, dumbly aware that doing this won’t shrink my handlebars by so much as a millimetre. The two giant slabs make brief sandwich filling of this meat garnished with Gore-Tex. To dwell upon the velocities and vectors in the smoky light of day might introduce a wobble into the equation. The muscles retain their own memory of how these things are done. There always seems to be just enough room no matter how unlikely the scenario or crowded the interstice. The great beast to my right continues its way to Penge; I carry on, eager for my next encounter (not so intimate this time), perhaps with a taxicab, or two veiled sisters from Saudi Arabia stepping off the kerb after purchasing an entire department of Marks & Spencer.

Is this any way to cycle?