Damn right I’m an angry cyclist

Dear Lady in the SUV

Thank you for understanding your enormous tank of a car cannot possibly fit beside my bicycle in our stupidly narrow street, where Louth Council feels because it would be nice to have a two-way street just there, rules of physics are suspended and Shazam! they declare 2+2=9 and Chapel Street is wide enough to not be a one way street. You win prize for driver of the day, because usually drivers simply barge forth and nearly kill me, so well done.

But oh, Lady in the SUV, you missed prize for driver of the week. Because either due to the arseholes behind you who clearly thought you should have just run me over and used their hooters to make that thought known, or because… I can’t think of more possible reasons… in response to me sticking my arm out so clearly it nearly left my body to go do a tap dance on the street entrance beside you to make my intentions clear, you reasoned as follows, as far as I could tell:

“I have already won driver of the day. I might win driver of the week if I stay put and let the cyclist turn here so she’s out of my way and I can proceed, but hey! I am a driver and will let the team down if I don’t act like an arsehole in at least some small way. Let me move my massive, oversized tank car forward so as to block the entrance this cyclist needs to turn into, so she can’t move out of my way and I can’t move out of hers. That would rebalance the universe, because my considerate gesture may have unsettled the gods enough to cause them to make Ireland sink under the sea like Atlantis.”

So I need to thank you in turn, because I was already on edge after running the gauntlet of negotiating one of the worst cycle lane designs in the history of humanity, so it only took you moving forward enough to block half the entrance before I completely lost my mind and screamed abuse. It was cathartic. I needed some stress relief.

Realising that you had now avoided driver of the week prize, you stopped while there was still enough space for me to get out of everyone’s way, but it could be you just realised you had forgotten to pack your tent. Which you would have had to get out and pitch, because your move to block the entrance I needed to turn into certainly would have had us stuck there indefinitely: me unable to get out of your way because you’re blocking me, you unable to get out of my way because of course every driver behind you who’d been furious you dared allow a cyclist to actually use the road had instantly pushed right up your enormous car’s butt the moment you moved an inch.

It could conceivably be that you were just feeling the tremendous stress and pressure of driving down Chapel Street at a busy-ish time, and intended to get out of my way so I could get past you and proceed down the road (though that doesn’t explain how you missed or misunderstood me sticking out my arm, unless the explanation is you never got a driving licence and thus never learned hand signals… could it be you thought I was trying to show you to move out of my way? But… but driving licence, hand signals…?). If that’s the case, may I suggest you use one of the four spacious and MUCH more accessible car parks located between 300m and 700m from Chapel Street and allow your children to walk the remaining distance. They will probably love the experience and I can write a tome on the sensory stimulation they’ll enjoy if they’re not imprisoned in a car, also the air they breathe in your car is dirtier than the air outside, which will be even cleaner around the three schools in Chapel Street if you could not shove your fat tank down our tiny street. And you’ll not have the stress of driving down a road that cannot. accommodate. all. this. traffic.

Have a super day. But please, go have it somewhere else.


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