radfahren

Dear tiny furious cycling man,

I just wanted to thank you for the insight you gave me when our paths crossed so briefly, but so memorably yesterday. Just two short words, but they conveyed so much. 

Mum had just discovered a puncture you see, and the reason I was swiveled round in my seat was to ask her whether she had enough change for the tram to get home. It's true I was on the wrong side of the cycle lane, and I can understand your reluctance to cross that strong white line, onto the wide empty path saved for pedestrians, surprisingly empty at that point. The better solution was surely to shout an indignant 'HEY!' as you approached us over the hill. Catching our attention like that was a smart move. It gave us a chance to admire your shiny cycling shorts and serious way of hunching over your racing bike's handlebars. It even allowed us a fairly good look at your screwed up anger, boiling up inside your shiny red face.

I duly steered over to the right, but that wasn't enough for you, was it? You had to rub it in, make my unforgiveable lack of adherence to road regulations really clear. Make it sting.

'Traum nicht!' 

That was paired with an impressively indignant hurrumph.

Traum nicht? Don't dream? Jesus, absolutely! Why would anybody dream. On a bike! I mean, it was Sunday, and the bicycle path by the river was full of weaving cyclists that all needed to be told not to dream. But you were right to pick me out, defiantly ignoring the rules and casting around for a way to wreak havoc on other cyclists. You, with your racing tyres and need for speed. I bet you weren't distracted by the sun shining off the river, making it sparkle and twinkle so invitingly it was all I could do not to jump right in. I bet the families of happy campers passed you by, the kids on unsteady rollers and speedy little scooters, parents walking contentedly hand in hand under the shade of the riverside trees. Perhaps you missed the old folk too, wheeled along by carers to they too could benefit from the glinting water. If only I could have been as concentrated as you, not led off track by other people, or events unfolding around me.

That was all insignificant to you, and so it should be. All these irritating people getting in the way. All those annoyances walking blithely into your path, taking their eyes off the purpose, the point of a bicycle ride, Sunday afternoon or not. Dreamers, the lot of them. Don't dream! Focus on the goals, stick to the paths so carefully drawn out for you, pump your legs up and down, up and down and race! Race! Race! 

 

Prick.

Yours sincerely,

Becca