Whether intentional or not I'm sure most of us have experienced some great moments of unspoken commuter willy waving. This mornings effort turned a cold and dreary ride into a new PB to work having hit 24mph on a road where I was quite happily spinning along at about 17. I fear I overshadowed 'victory' by having to take a trip over a roundabout as I'd overlooked things a bit. I must have looked like a real twunt.
My favourite was when I'd ridden past a group of lads mostly on foot, with one on a bmx. It was about 400m to some traffic lights and shortly after going past them bmx boy gives chase. I didn't know it was possible for legs to turn that fast as the lad came tearing past. We pulled up at the lights together and he looked me up and down. "Posh bike w@nker" he says and turns round and heads back to his mates. Couldn't help but smile.
Tell me your tales.
I chased a woman on a shopping bike for about 7k at full noise, eventually caught her when she stopped at a cafe. It was a funkin e-bike I had been chasing !
I live at the top of a big hill, my entire commute's basically a flat out downhill sprint... Best commute ever was the time I overtook a scooter halfway down. Not even spoiled by my cry of triumph, which was "SCOOOOTER", not exactly witty.
Hiding in a busstop from hailstones then having to explain why I was late for work.Not actually rivalry but funny.
The day the entire of scotland gridlocked in the snow, and I'd taken my rigif mtb to work. There were 2 things moving on the roads, me:
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and this ****:
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http://i74.photobucket.com/albums/i264/Northwindlowlander/mountain%20bike/snow/skiier1.jp g"/> [/IMG][/URL]
I'm pretty sure I beat him
Riding in London is absolutely full of this sort of thing.
Plenty of people riding like complete fins du cloche because they refuse to accept that someone may be quicker than them, or that you're not interested in racing, and will bury themselves for their 3 mile commute!
Racing is for when you've got a number on!
I like the **** - uses the same brand of skis and boots as me 😉
Everyday is a race day, but recently I was impressed by having a guy on a full carbon Stork moan at me about wheel sucking and not taking a turn. I could barely comment as I was so our of breath keeping pace on my pannier laden single speed.
There's a guy on an ungated e bike too, one day I'm going to beat him over a stretch of the busway, but I think it averages 27mph, so not just yet.
Arsenal game on tonight so there was total gridlock in Islington.
I used to enjoy hooning through and past the standstill traffic - not so much anymore, but it makes the commuter racing more interesting as it involves picking good lines through the traffic as well as speed. you get to race the motorbikes too as whilst they accelerate quicker they aren't as manoeuvrable and can't squeeze through small gaps.
Racing is for when you've got a number on!
call it race training then...
I work shifts in a local factory, up to 200 clocking off at the same time, which I guess, half cycle, this leads to a mass cycle path race back home.
It's not competive for some, but for others, a hardcore of maybe 10 who kit up on road bikes it's all quite serious.
It's great fun watching bikes flood in from every direction, all trying to beat their work mates home 😉
Look forward to it every day 😉
It was about 400m to some traffic lights and shortly after going past them bmx boy gives chase. I didn't know it was possible for legs to turn that fast as the lad came tearing past. We pulled up at the lights together and he looked me up and down. "Posh bike w@nker" he says and turns round and heads back to his mates. Couldn't help but smile.
This^ is brilliant
I hardly ever Strava my commute but back in summer trying to get some mileage challenge or other, I resorted to extending my ride home and recording that.
Quite my chance one day I ended up with a KOM along a small industrial estate road (didn't even know it was a segment). Get onto it along a cycle path then its maybe 300m past some small lock-up units up to the road.
Literally 2hrs later I got the "uh oh..." email from Strava. The KOM holder had obviously gone straight out and done a ride specifically to get it back.
Two days later I took it again.
A day later, he'd got it back. It was just funny getting it then seeing how long it'd take for this guy to go out for the sole purpose of getting it back.
I've got it at the moment. Was a full on sprint to win it though!
I was running and spotted a bike in the distance. I was surprised to find myself gaining on it as it started up a long hill. I thought I'm going to catch that and set to it 😛 As I drew level about 400m further on near the top I glanced sideways and noticed it was an e-bike and started laughing. "Oh my god, how embarrassing!" said the lady rider. I managed to gasp out that I wouldn't tell anyone (well until now) before we got to the top and she hared off down the other side. I took the summit though 😉
To be honest I think she was just dreaming and was relying more on the motor as the hill went on and didn't realise her speed was dropping off, but it was the fastest I've ever covered that bit of road.
aracer - MemberI like the ****
I heard that about you
I don't really race when cycling. My bike is too heavy for that. Except the time I overtook an electric bike. Proud moment.
Bizarrely most of my recent notable overtakes have been when I'm running and overtake pavement cyclists 😯
On the ebike I got in the summer its amazing how roadies race you.
Cycling from South Leeds to Harrogate in September I was cycling past the Asparagus farm just near the bottom of Harewood bank. A guy on a time trial bike came hooning past, but once 100m or so in front he eased off. We both turned off to head up to Kirby Overblow (undulating, but mainly climing!). He kept looking over his shoulder at the fat guy on the shopping bike that he could not shake off. As we climbed into Kirby Overblow I caught him up and gave a cheery "Mornin! Don't worry, I am cheating"... he said "thank god I thought my torque sensor was broken".
Loving the ebike and its amazing how many people just assume its a normal "shopping" bike.
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I chased a woman on a shopping bike for about 7k at full noise, eventually caught her when she stopped at a cafe. It was a funkin e-bike I had been chasing !
Oh I've had that, big old fella in a massive flappy flourescent jacket, work-boots, knackered looking BSO, and I nearly killed myself overhauling the bugger on a long uphill drag into a headwind. Only spotted at the last minute that he had a massive electric hub-drive thing blatting him along at 15mph whilst barely making an effort.
Cheating, I call it. Buy a bloody scooter you tight sod. 😉
[Edit: CHB, not aiming that at you, bad timing on my post there. I think ebikes are ace really, anything that gets people pedalling is a good thing.]
I commute over a hill in Sheffield with a toddler in a baby seat. I try not to feel a bit smug when overtaking going uphill but I can't claim much success, especially when it's a 'proper' bike. I really need to get her better trained to smile and wave at people as we pass, just to rub it in...
People on mountain bikes turning themselves inside out to overtake me..I'm going to work ffs!
[quote="njee20"]fins du cloche
😆 I'm nicking that one!
Oh loads when i commuted daily in London. This one sticks out tho: http://pickled-hedgehog.com/?p=53 mainly because i subsequently discovered the woman who was riding the bromton rather quicker than me was a county level athlete (runner I think) and was somewhat perturbed to be cyber-stalked by some random bloke. I think she might have asked me to take the post down. Clearly, I ignored that.
Stories like this are totally lame.
Except when it's your own story, in which case they're tales of supreme awesomeness. So here's my Tl;dr...
I was visiting a mate in London. Rather than mess about with public transport either end of the train journey, I took the bike with me. I went down on the Friday night and came back Sunday evening.
My mate lives in Stratford, East London, almost within sight of the Olympic park, and this was the weekend in between the Olympics and the Paralympics, so there was a real buzz around the area. People were visiting from all over the world, the cafes and pubs were spilling out onto the street, flags were flying, it was great.
I fancied a ride round to take it all in, so I left my (none-riding) mate a little earlier than planned and spent a couple of hours riding round, seeing the sights and taking in the atmosphere, before making a gentle ride over to St Pancras for my train.
An old ankle injury means that though I can ride all day, I'm not great at walking for a long time. So I have a folding walking stick that I take with me any time I suspect I'll be on my feet a lot. I don't use it very often, but it does bail me out occasionally. It usually lives tucked away in my bag, but as my bag was full with my weekend's clothing, I had it pushed into the bottle holder on the outside.
So I'm wearing normal clothes - jeans, trainers, T Shirt, no helmet, no gloves - I've got a small but over-stuffed rucksack on, and I've got a folded up, wooden handled walking stick poking out the side. And I'm riding a 20" wheeled Moulton.
Just cruising, minding my own business, I roll up steadily to a red light and this guy appears right beside me. He's in full matching lycra, road cleats, no helmet but he's wearing a cycling cap, fingerless mitts, the lot. He's riding a full blown (at least to my eyes) pro-spec carbon road bike, like a full on time-trial machine with deep section carbon rims and the lot. Except, inexplicably, he's running a pair of those stupid narrow riser bars you see the fixie boys running, with the brake levers almost touching.
Fair enough, that's ridiculous component choice, but it's his bike, he can do what he wants to it. I don't care. Except he's now arrogantly edging in front of me, and he's angled himself to point at the bit of tarmac immediately ahead of me, as if he's just assuming he's going to pull in front when the lights change and leave small wheeled, little old limpy here for dead.
Now it wasn't his narrow bars alone that were enough to turn me into Mr testosterone competitive madman. Nor was it his arrogance that could turn me into Mr testosterone competitive madman. Combine both however, and you've a red-rag-to-a-bull.
I'm calmly sat at the lights and I can see his leg twitching. I can see he's poised ready to shoot off as soon as we get the amber. And I'm sat there, looking nonchalant, but inside I know my very masculinity rests on this one moment. If I don't at least ruin the rest of this guy's year I'll never be able to look myself in the eye again. My girlfriend will leave me, my chest hair will thin and my taste for foaming real ale will turn into a craving for Coors Light.
Up ahead, I note the road is a slight incline. It's only a London incline, but it's there. These things are relative, and my rival is clearly a London rider. I'm from up North; bursting up short, sharp climbs is how we get laid up here. And I'm in lowest gear. On a Moulton.
If you've never ridden a Moulton I suggest you try it. Hugely misunderstood things, they are. Fast. Really fast. And they accelerate. Like, really fast. Small wheels, low rotating mass, taught frame; they fire off the line, quick.
I'm feeling confident.
The lights change. Lycra boy stands high and heaves down on the lead pedal, clipping in just in time to stomp on the other. He's really cranking. But I stay alongside him. Sat down. Refusing to let him pull ahead, I carefully click down gears and, staying seated, I continue to crank, making it look like this is the easiest thing in the world. He cranks harder, digs deeper, and all I do is stay in the saddle, maintaining a fast but steady cadence, I keep shifting down and I keep matching his speed. All the time my face is placid, my breathing normal and my composure intact.
I start to hear him tire. Maybe he's been out pushing hard for hours, maybe he's just done a century. I neither know nor care. He made this happen. He asked for this, he'd held out his ass and he was begging me to hand it right back to him with a cute little bow attached. We're now at his limit, we're on the mild incline I consider his extreme and my comfort zone, and I've got fresh legs.
From my seat I turn to look at him as he's mashing away. He's gasping for breath, starting to show signs that he's about to fall back. Now is my time. From my comfortable saddle and genteel position, looking for all the world like a village pastor on a sedate pootle through the parish, I catch his eye and say, with a calm but knowing smile;
"Don't ever assume".
At that I stood up, dumped a load of gears and sprinted off into the distance, just making the next set of lights.
I glanced back. He was a dot. I had left him for dead, and I had done it with a calm smile. With a good deal of tarmac and a set of reds between us, I turned into a side street and beyond his sight line.
He learned a valuable lesson that day. Don't mess with people you don't know. You never know how teh awesumz they might be. And I was teh king of awesumz that day.
How much it must have been stinging him, I thought. How much does it tear you apart to have your dignity stripped from you, I wondered, as I turned down the side of some shops and victoriously hid in a fire escape, leaning against a piss-stained door on the verge of lung failure, trying not to be sick.
I hid there among the bins, boxes and used johnnies long enough that he wouldn't see me again. Because I was the winner.
That night I went home and had full sex with a woman.