I dont post on here much, but couldnt resist adding me two cents even after reading the first two pages of stuff written in March. . .
Racing to work is ingrained in some people - the human urge to compete in everything comes out in all sorts of ways and cycling to work is another way for the dayglo hordes to have a chance at being king.
I've seen some fast commuters, the best was the guy who swept through the Stockwell station crossroads into all the traffic singing at the top of his voice clad in spandex and a baggy shirt, clearly cracked out of his mind yet clearly intent on going somewhere fast to the disdain of the more sporty down to earth racing commuters.
Also, to all you racers going home thinking your king (or queen) by zipping past me on Brixton road at 6 pm, giving a smirky look back and carying on until I catch you at the next light - I've already done ten hours riding all day and the fact I can keep you in my sights still, means that you gotta a lot to learn about stamina. Nothing counts on the way home, remember that.
And in the morning, I'm too hungover to seriously race you.
Why am I typing all this bollox now? I'm sick, at home, with a lot of time to kill and a boredom factor of over a hundred, without the energy to leave my house. Enjoy finding a new route home when the student protest fucks London Wall and the City at 5pm.
Respect to the forum, lot of good people on here (despite my ramblings above!!).
I dont post on here much, but couldnt resist adding me two cents even after reading the first two pages of stuff written in March. . .
Racing to work is ingrained in some people - the human urge to compete in everything comes out in all sorts of ways and cycling to work is another way for the dayglo hordes to have a chance at being king.
I've seen some fast commuters, the best was the guy who swept through the Stockwell station crossroads into all the traffic singing at the top of his voice clad in spandex and a baggy shirt, clearly cracked out of his mind yet clearly intent on going somewhere fast to the disdain of the more sporty down to earth racing commuters.
Also, to all you racers going home thinking your king (or queen) by zipping past me on Brixton road at 6 pm, giving a smirky look back and carying on until I catch you at the next light - I've already done ten hours riding all day and the fact I can keep you in my sights still, means that you gotta a lot to learn about stamina. Nothing counts on the way home, remember that.
And in the morning, I'm too hungover to seriously race you.
Why am I typing all this bollox now? I'm sick, at home, with a lot of time to kill and a boredom factor of over a hundred, without the energy to leave my house. Enjoy finding a new route home when the student protest fucks London Wall and the City at 5pm.
Respect to the forum, lot of good people on here (despite my ramblings above!!).