Phoebe Luckhurst I welcome the Covid cycling newbies – but watch out for the old guard acting up
ALL things considered, it is fairly undignified to be overtaken by a man wearing a leather jacket daubed — in faux white paint — with the statement “My mum says I’m trouble”. Still, it does give you more time to contemplate the message in question. As he careered through a red light — tongue waggling as he glanced over his shoulder — and I waited for the green, I could really burrow down into whether I found his “mother’s” verdict faintly incestuous, or simply a self-deprecating assessment of “her” own parenting.
Cycling has skyrocketed, and our roads have been invaded by rogue cyclists giving the rest of us a bad name. Though this chump was remarkable, in the grand scheme of my new summer project — an unofficial taxonomy of London’s more pestilent bike users — he barely registers. Saddle up: you’re in for a wild ride.
Before you start with me — my issue is not with the newbies trying to avoid public transport. I do not wish to sound like the two-wheeled version of one of those gym elitists who greets January’s ephemeral, New-Year-resolution zealots with an eye roll and perhaps a (gentle, deniable) shoulder barge by the dumbbells. No, novice cyclists are welcome — they tend to be more fluent in the rules of the road than the old guard. The latter, though, appear to be acting out this year, perhaps at the thrill of a whole new audience in their pop-up cycle lanes.
Quotidian offences include running red lights; shouting at pedestrians for stepping onto zebra crossings; bombing it up the pavement towards some nanas at the bus stop; and undertaking wildly. Recently I have found myself closing my eyes when I see one do the latter — I can’t help it — thereby becoming a bad cyclist myself, though not as bad as those with earphones plugged in. Voluntarily disabling one of your senses as you take Vauxhall junction at a clip seems like folly to me, but maybe I’m just really boring.
The gender split of the aforementioned trends one way (guess which?) but there is a separate tribe that, in my field research, is entirely male. Overtaking one, especially on an incline, seems to trigger a red mist. They will put pedal to metal in order to veer into oncoming traffic, overtake you and restore the universe’s rightful equilibrium (man first! woman second!). At which point they will slow down once more and you will find yourself cycling up their rear wheel (not a euphemism). When you later overtake again at a more opportune point, they’ll be triggered and the whole thing repeats. If they can’t keep pace, they may sling a comment. Recently: “You’re fast, aren’t you”. The words “...for a girl” may have followed, except I’d overtaken by then. And “nice legs”. Thanks! I’ve always found them useful for leaving you in the dust.
Still, this bad behaviour is of more interest to cyclists than anyone else, largely because, frankly, most non-cyclists would deny the existence of any “good” cyclists altogether. Partly because we can sound pretty smug — no comment — but also because there are too many committing other everyday offences such as screaming at pedestrians.
Even the most sanctimonious cyclist behaves badly occasionally — again, no comment — but now the stakes are especially high. We’re on the verge of a revolution: in our new Covid world, London’s roads could be reorganised to accommodate more bikes (good news for the air) and cycling badly invalidates our cause. If cars can’t mount the pavement or run red lights as grannies cross, cyclists shouldn’t either. Let’s not mess this up. And mate, for your mother’s sake, if not mine — ditch the jacket.
If they can’t keep pace I hear, ‘You’re fast aren’t you... for a girl,’ as I leave them in the dust