ego.istic.org

I was surprised while cycling home earlier today. At the bottom end of Milton Road, there was a woman trying to do a three-point turn out of a side-road. I didn't stop to let her out, because there was another car coming along behind me. (These days I never let people out when there are other vehicles around, because more often than not when a cyclist stops he is the only one to do so, left in the road with other vehicles whizzing past. It's as if you got up to offer your seat to a lady and some other bloke sits in it first.)

After we'd both passed this woman and her side-road, the car behind moved to overtake me, but instead slowed down as it drew level, and he wound down his nearside window. I was slightly taken aback by this, as I imagined he was going to tell me off for not letting the woman out, especially as she'd stopped with her bonnet sticking out into the cycle lane and I had to (signalling first, and with plenty of room) enter the all-vehicles lane to pass her. But no, I was even more surprised to ask me for directions into town.

When Boris Johnson was on Room 101, one of the things he wanted rid of was people shouting insults at him (he gave “Tory tosser” as an example) while he was on his bike. Not that he wanted to suppress their free speech or freedom of political expression, he hastened to point out, but he'd rather they did it at a time when being distracted would be less likely to make him a danger to other road users (or himself, for that matter). But I bet even Boris has never been asked to give directions while doing fifteen with full panniers. Incidentally, today was one of the days where I was cycling into the wind on the way out and on the way back as well.

I've been asked for directions before while on my bike, but only when stationary (more than once at traffic lights, which is bad enough should they happen to change before you finish). Some people forget that even though they can see me without a multi-tonne bubble of steel and Triplex getting in the way, when I'm on my bike I am still in charge of a vehicle and have other things to concentrate on besides acting as a tourist guide to Cambridge.

And that's not the only hazard. The other week, I was on a side road coming up to turn left onto Hills Road, which is a busy A-road with a busy bus lane that everyone ignores and that comes and goes anyway. The pavements on both sides are narrow, so it's necessary to come to a complete stop at the Give Way line in order to look right.

On this occasion, there was a pedestrian on the corner on my side of Hills Road, waiting to cross the side road. She glared at me as I approached, perhaps angry that I hadn't stopped five metres before the line to let her cross. But worse was to come, as she obviously wasn't expecting me to stop at the stop line, and almost tripped over my back wheel as she started to cross not-quite-behind me. I managed to stop myself laughing, but got another glare regardless.

But the behaviour most likely to be awarded a Darwin award was earlier that day, as I was queueing at the traffic lights at the South end of Regent Street, where it's two lanes Southbound, one Northbound. I was in the left-hand lane, with a bus in front of me and another behind, leaning over to the left to see the lights. I'd stopped about two metres behind the bus in front, to avoid getting into his blind spot, and a man with a pushchair decided that this gap was a good place to cross the road. Of course, flanked by buses, the pushchair would be well out into the other lane before he could see whether anything was coming. I was thinking about pointing out to him that he was being recklessly stupid with his young charge, and that he should consider using one of the two pedestrian crossings, about twenty metres in either direction along the road; just as I was going to speak up, a third bus whooshed past in the next lane, just far enough away from the stationary buses to avoid taking their wing mirrors off. I think that was enough for him to get the idea on his own: he muttered, “maybe not,” and sheepishly reversed onto the pavement, hopefully to use a crossing like a sensible soul, but I fear to try enrolling his child into another daredevil stunt.

When I was little and went walking around town with Mum, whenever we approached a crossing, signal-controlled or otherwise, she would always caution, “Wait,” in a firm tone. She later did the same thing with both of my brothers, and still does when she is walking the dog. Maybe one time in three she would happen to do this when some random person was about to cross against the lights, bringing them to a sudden halt at the kerb. It used to embarrass her when this happened, though she would pretend that it served them right for setting a bad example. Though I have now grown up a bit and will cross against the lights if I want to, the habit is still with me, and on all but the quietest roads will find a ped crossing rather than jay-walk. Perhaps the chap with a pushchair should have been set such an example by his parents? He certainly isn't setting one now.