Almost a Full Moon

In a recent post, I droned on about a learner driver who was driving in the dark without a single light being lit.

It got me thinking about all of the other sights that we sometimes have the misfortune to see as we’re merrily driving from A to B.

One sight isn’t only a sight to behold, but could also easily be described as a veritable disaster waiting to happen.

I write, of course, about the cyclist.

They’re an abundant species all unto themselves, cyclists. Oblivious to anything around them, invulnerable, and sometimes ghastly to look at. They come in all shapes and sizes, with one, two, three or four wheels… and sometimes even more.

On occasion, they swarm together and race around in packs, so tightly crammed together they are, that if one took a tumble in the centre, those cyclists surrounding the poor unfortunate one end up being knocked outwards via the domino effect. If seen from up above, this cyclist cascade would resemble the delicate opening of a flower’s petals, only with more noise and considerably more foul language.

I’m not focusing on the swarms though. I’m looking at the lone cyclist.

Red traffic lights have no right to stop the majority of them. Many just bypass them by cycling on the pavement instead.

Traffic hold ups also have no right to stop a cyclist. No, they weave in and out of the slow moving vehicles, not stopping at red traffic lights (as we’ve already seen) and hurtle straight across busy junctions as if an oncoming vehicle will bounce off them. As I mentioned earlier, many lone cyclists are invulnerable.

There’s one particular type of cyclist that is now becoming a regular feature. At one time extremely rare, they can now be seen all the more frequently. And some can be seen more than others.

Obviously, they need to be seen so that any oncoming vehicles won’t deflect off them, but some are taking this a little too far.

As in nature, bright colours always indicate some kind of warning. ‘Keep away from me, I’m poisonous!’ they scream in their fluorescent green spots. Insects, that is, not cyclists. Cyclists’ fluorescent green indicates ‘Look at me, I’m here!’ as in ‘I want to stand out so you will see me’, not ‘I look fabulous in this fluorescent green, don’t I?’!

But then, there’s them.

Them.

The nightmare cyclists.

Those who choose the lycra one size too small. Yes, lycra’s stretchy material, but this particular type of cyclist seems to go for the cut-off circulation look. Purple arms with bulging veins poking out of fluorescent green sleeves is not a good look in anybody’s money.

Cyclist-watchers are keen to point out that this is the reason why this particular breed of cyclist goes for this look, as they intend for themselves to shrink into the lycra, but honestly: saggy lycra is no good for anyone.

Being behind one of these cyclists is, well, I wouldn’t say joy to behold, but an experience in itself. As they cycle, rhythmically wobbling from side to side, lycra molecules expanded to a hair’s breadth of visibility, one only hopes that there isn’t a mini cataclysmic explosion within one of said molecules that ruptures the space-time continuum causing the tightly packed cyclist to come flooding out of the poor unfortunate wrapping.

Maybe that’s taking things a little too far, but if a cyclist can go through a red light, then surely, anything can happen.  

Next time you see a lycra-clad cyclist, try not to think of a mini cataclysmic explosion, as they tend to get tetchy around people who laugh. And anything that’s tetchy is unpredictable. And there’s nothing worse than an unpredictable cyclist.

We at Beyond the Sphere hope that you haven’t been affected by any of the issues highlighted in this blog post.