Cocks in Cars

You may well remember that there is a degree of linguistic education required when motorcycling.  I’m proud to report that my own is progressing nicely.

I’ve not written about Yami for a while because it would be a boring litany of mini roundabouts, blind junctions, traffic lights and slippery road paint.  But take it from me, with each journey I always managed to do something really stupid.  I want just one ride where I don’t do something so imbecilic that I would end up sprawled and scattered across the road.

The day came.  A short trip admittedly.   I’d usually walk it, but today, seemed like I needed bike practice.

It starts well.  I sit on the bike, there are two others parked beside me with little room for manoeuvre.  There’s a parking space in front of me, empty.  I’m pleased about that, I’ll be able to set off without having to worry about an insurance claim.

The sun’s shining, I pull down the sun visor and I realise I haven’t zipped the “granny-on-a-bike – in-your-face-florescent – make-sure-you-can-see-me” over jacket.  I have to take off my knuckleduster gloves to do so and of course, someone comes along just at that moment wanting the vacant parking slot.

They have to wait.

I make them wait.

I’ve learned not to allow myself to be hurried as that makes me do that ‘stupid’ thing.  Today, I’m hurrying for no-one.

I’m on the road and miss my first turn, so we go the long way round.  It’s quiet, sunny, I’m relaxed and my clutch control is well under control.  This relaxed peaceful joy is not to last.

But it wasn’t me.  Honestly, your honour it wasn’t.

The first cock in a car decides to round a blind bend at twice the speed needed for the conditions – on my side of the road.  I’m lucky, I’ve seen him, and have time to veer toward the curb to avoid him.  Strangely I’m feeling less fear than when I switched the motor on at the start of the journey.  I pull out and a few seconds later, the second cock in a car emerges and sits on my tail.  Not even a bike length between us.  I’m going at the speed limit and need to.  There’s cars parked on both sides of the road, blocking the view of junctions, pedestrians who are blind and deaf to any passing traffic and kids on bikes – the pedalling kind – on the pavements.

Then the third cock in a car pulls out in front of me.  This one meanders across the road as if about to turn right, but doesn’t indicate, so I’ve no idea of his intent.  He meanders back like a drunk duck.  Even its backside’s waddling.  It’s speed is 10 under the limit and I have cock 2 still on my tail.

I’ve read the highway code and passed my theory test, so I followed the guideline – increase the distance between you and the front car.

Seems like good advice, I don’t fancy being sandwich filling today.  It’s a full alert ride, the behaviour of the car in front doesn’t change.  We are at a T-junction, no indicator, he pulls right.  My liberated language flows, I’m also going right, so I keep a good distance, cock 2 still on my tail.  Cock 3 doesn’t go right, he goes left.  It’s definitely a drunk duck, he waddles to the wrong side of the road, an angry horn alerts me to oncoming traffic I can’t see and cock no. 2 sits impatiently on my tail.

He has to wait.

I make him wait.

I’m hurrying for no-one.

Angry horn passes, the road is clear, I do a lovely controlled turn to the right, and pull over to the left to allow the tail bumper to pass.  I follow him, keeping to the speed limit and observe him breaking it, going up the hill toward where I live.  I chuckle to myself.  I know there’s a police officer on a motorbike with a speed clock hidden around the bend.  Cock no. 2 will be getting points added to his license today.

The speed catcher is still on duty and shortly after passing him, I do a beautifully controlled left turn into the carpark outside my home.  As I come to a stop, I realise that today, I didn’t do anything stupid.

I part company from Yami, smiling to myself.  I thank my guardian warriors on destriers for serving a very sweet dessert called Justice.

 

 

 

 

 

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16 thoughts on “Cocks in Cars

    1. Thanks Raili !! The cocks are why I’ve even avoided driving since coming to Britain, there’s no open road type freedom you can enjoy between the frantic traffic – cities are merging with one another.
      But I’d prefer to be in control than a pillion, which is the alternative.

      Liked by 1 person

          1. He’s yet to buy one – it’s been getting researched for many years, including interstate trips. Stupidly the laws here differ in every state. So in SA, where we live, he had to get a motorbike licence first. That’s taken 2 years. Other states he could have driven one on his car licence, but would have got into trouble crossing the border home! I dare say the search will get intense now – and be the subject of a future blog 🙂

            Liked by 1 person

            1. Oh gosh, that is a problem. I think bike training is important though. We’re intending to go right up to advanced rider certificate – that’s like police riding level. But it’s all about the safety in the end. Europe has standardised the licensing now, with different rules and regulations for different ages. Once we have a full licence though, we’ll be able to ride anywhere on anything that’s road legal.

              Liked by 1 person

                1. Just want to report folks that Verd now has his full license – and now I has to gets mine, or he’ll have me donning (not leathers, but BMW touring kit – not quite as sexy) and I don’t like not being in control !!

                  Liked by 1 person

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