No major problems for aaaaaaaaaaaaaaages. Then Friday coming home; Saturday going to the Farmers Market; and this morning 2 minutes out the door from the house...
Friday
Closest I have EVER come to being smeared across the road. Picasso (the car not the painter) moves to overtake on a blind corner on the south side of Arthur's Seat with me already doing 30mph. I see a van coming, stick out hand to get overtaker to stop. My mistake. Apparently that means 'speed up and cut straight into the side of the cyclist'. At 30mph. Van coming the other way, horn, brakes hauled. Picasso driver is bloody lucky I didn't catch up with it. Came within a whisker, but they jumped a red light, must have seen me coming.
THEN eejit boy racer takes offence to me pointing out the 20mph zone later on closer to home (I was in a belligerent mood by then). Tells me I should move over (after asking if I want to get run over. Of course I was overtaking parked cars at this point. With cars parked on the other side too and speed bumps in the road. WHERE should I go?
Saturday
heading back down to Tollcross after visiting Lupe Pinto's after the market I was in the right hand lane, seeing ahead that there was a car parked in the left, and moved up behind a just re-started queue of cars. Silver Yaris behind decides to undertake. On seeing the parked car ahead (bearing in mind I'm keeping pace with the taxi in front so the undertaking was daft even just from that point of view) driver engages tunnel vision and, without indicating, moves into the right hand lane. Worth pointing out here. He hasn't yet finished undertaking me. I shout. Loudly. Eyes remain firmly fixed to the front.
Today
Coming to the top of Mountcastle Drive North to turn onto Northfield Broadway. There's a road narrowing with cyclist cut-through, then junction on the right, then junction on the left, then the end T-juntion for me to turn right. All within 20 yards or so. Becuase I'm turning righ (and because someone always parks half blocking it) I never use the bike cut-through. Today the trouble wasn't someone behind trying to get through though.
With me centre-right in my lane (what I like to call the 'NuLabour Position') metallic burgundy private hire cab (need I say more?) Jag just pulls out. Fortunately I've given myself bags of room to escape. I shout (again) and (again) no response, no look, no wave, nothing.
Grrrrr!
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