I loathe them with the heat of a supernova. I’d like them to suffer horribly. Coating them in honey, severing a few key blood vessels and leaving them atop a carnivorous ants nest is too good for them. I’d say they should be forced to listen to a Kyle Sandilands marathon if I didn’t think they’d enjoy it.
Ly•cra•li•en (noun): A male cyclist adorned in skin-tight attire that bears a striking resemblance to European junk mail.
I love cycling. I love anything on two wheels. But these people – that intimidate other cyclists and pedestrians with their machismo posturing, that sit around coffee shops with their helmets and oakleys still affixed while sipping short blacks and sweating on the seats – more than justify the pathological hatred many people here have for cyclists.
I cross a cycle path adjacent to the train station in City West. I cross it every morning on my way to work, and every evening on my way home. On a cold morning or after a long day, if the aching bones are misbehaving, it can take a few seconds.
There are bright fluorescent signs denoting that it is a pedestrian crossing. There are the universally recognised white lines across the path. These are the sorts of signs that even the never-leave-the-city four-wheel-drive-fuckwits heed. those people stop. Not the lycraliens. Oh no. If they’re in a considerate mood, you might have one shout a terse “bike” as they speed through. But they never slow down. They never *shudder* stop.
One morning soon, one of these wankers is going to find my walking stick shoved into their spokes. Yeah, mine’s carbon fibre too, cockface.
I can empathise with the rampant upgrade-itis that besets these people. I just bought a new Ducati. I will not get anywhere close to meeting the potential of this bike. I got it coz I likes it. So I won’t pour scorn on you if you trade your Moots frame in for a DeRossa that will do less to reduce the weight of your ride than having a good shit that morning.
But it’d be remiss to not point out that while you may think that wearing lycra adorned with “Kazzinc” and “Astana” makes you look like Alberto Contador, it actually just makes you look like a dickhead.
Whatever pollution you’re offsetting by cycling is more than offset by the fact that you put five people off cycling for life every time you poonce about in public with the contours of your groin on display.
So for the benefit of the whole planet, here’s a few things you lycraliens should know:
- You’re deeply unattractive in that attire, and this adversely affects people. The world does not need a that much information about you.
- Many of you are probably the same people that complain about “hoons”. You don’t need an engine to be dangerous you know.
- An aggressive attitude to other cyclists and pedestrians does not make you faster. But it does make you a wanker.
Old white guys, can’t you just go back to playing golf?
