General Chat

Jeremey Vine says he won't have a number plate on his cycle. Maybe he could, instead, persuade cyclists to wear some sort of reflective clothing, even a cross body strap would help. Maybe he could wear one himself.

I'm fed up with the cyclists who wear such dark clothing and expect to be seen. So often they merge into the shadows and surprise you when they race out into the light.

They should be made to have insurance and be charged road tax in my opinion they are a vehicle after all.

Totally agree with you LaGooner, they are a hazard to other road users.

All round cyclists can be a hazard including the ones who ride at speed down the middle of the pavements making walkers jump out of the way.

I have to admit to buying a bike purely so I could cycle to work, when I worked as the receptionist in Portsmouth dockyard, many years ago,
Friday afternoons at 16:30, when the whole dockyard emptied out for the weekend were the best!

Hundreds of cyclists would pour out of Unicorn Gate, to a nearly empty road.
Local car drivers would avoid the area at this time, and 'foreigners' to the area, driving near the gate, would come to a standstill as they were surrounded by bikes.

On a Friday, I used to cycle around the corner and go into a small pub, where I'd be greeted by Pete, a dockie, build like the proverbial brick ****house, who always left work at 16:00 on a Friday, to give him time to change into his (female) Spanish Flamenco dancer's costume and put on his make up, before standing at the door to welcome customers.

Pete always bought me a drink. :-D

Having said that, i get really annoyed at 'recreational' cyclists - those who claim they're not polluting the atmosphere etc, yet DRIVE to places like the New Forest at weekends purely to cycle around the narrow roads.

The ones that really pee me off around here are the idiots that ride side by side down the busy bypass that has cycleways that they don't use :-| :-| :-| :-|. They are a pain in the butt as are the ones who ride around our country lanes and spread themselves right across the road.

Rant over for now :-D :-D

I belonged to a cycling club in the 1950.,s and we went for Sunday rides out from London to Kent

We were very well regimented and only rode two abreast and everyone indicated holes in the road so no one hit a rut

If car’s built up behind us we pulled over to let them pass.

But guess these days road manners may not be there

I would like to think that cyclists don’t pull over because the speed limit is so low. But I can’t ;-)

The vast majority are selfish and arrogant. We call them Tarmac gazers as they stare down at the road instead of where they are going :-D :-D :-D :-D

LaGooner that's polite and we aren't polite. ;-)

:-D :-D :-D :-D That's coz I am a lady ;-) :-D :-D :-D

Yeah right. LOL.

Maggie, it was also busy with cyclists around lunch time. My OH failed his first driving test for something he did or didn't do when he got caught in the tide of cyclists. and I had more than one driving lesson that took me among them. And then, worked for the Admiralty and spent two days a week in the dockyard so was leaving on foot at the same time as the mass of cyclists then having to jostle for a space on the Gosport ferry (1956 -1961).

What cycles?
We have miles of cycle paths in Chelmsford which are used by literally a handful of cyclists.
And miles of traffic jams where roads have been narrowed to create the cycle lanes.
And hundreds of potholes we call "Cycle traps".

Ann, I never bothered leaving the dockyard at lunchtime.
If the weather was nice, I'd wander around the dockyard - there were some lovely buildings - or find a nice sunny position near a group of feral cats and eat /share my sandwiches :-)

I lived in Southsea, so most days had a lovely peaceful ride home along the seafront. I only went out Unicorn Gate on a Friday. :-D

Driving instructors should have known when the cyclists were about - considering the Dockyard must have been the biggest employer at the time :-S

Many many moons ago, the Peugeot racer -- that I had bought to replace the lesser breed of bike that had been stolen -- was stolen.

It had cost me a fair bit of my wages -- and like maggiewinchester's, mine was a workhorse, to school and back come come heck or high water. Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail kept me from my appointed classes, and that was the 1970s, mini-ice age and covered in snow that they (and I) were. Long crimson wool coat from the charity shop with its nipped waist and full skirt, black hat and shawl I had crocheted, shiny tall black boots, pedalling through the drifts. Life was pretty good.

Anyway, I did go down to the police leftover-evidence day to see whether I could spot it. Hills and mountains of bicycles, most not anything you'd want to bother taking home. And there in the midst was my beautiful purple Peugeot.

The wheels were gone, replaced with some bald-tired things. My gorgeous leather saddle, moulded to my bum from all those rides, was gone, in its place a torn vinyl mattress affair. But it was mine. How did I know?

In my home town, bikes were supposed to be licensed, and I was a rule-follower. The licence "plate" was a long strip of orange reflective tape down the forks both front and back, with the licence number imprinted on the back ones in black lettering. There was my claim to the bike, although in a different city.

How do you know that's your bike? asked the constable on duty, looking at me with suspicion.

Well, I said, (a) the licence number will trace back to me, and (b) if that weren't mine, why TH would I be claiming this pathetic piece of junk? This persuaded him. I don't remember what I ended up doing with it, but that was pretty much my last bike......

I recommend that licensing method for bikes! Useful in more ways than one.

Oh yeah. That was the 1970s. They're a lot longer ago now than they were 10 years ago. I'm old. What fun.