The Ethical perils of cycling

 

My definition of a Lycra Caterpillar:

A lycra caterpillar (Genus: Menacia species: on-de-road), a brightly colored slug composed of a few (more than 5), sometimes up to 50–60 interchangeable segments (cyclists).

It (the peloton) is known for its ability to weave in and out of traffic and can cause considerable pain to others trying to use the same road. Once they gain momentum, they are hard to stop and seem to disregard anything else, probably because they consider themselves a protected species.

Anyone who comes close to them will likely get a nasty spray from one or more segments and may even get bitten for doing so.

The only good thing about the lycra caterpillar is that you can see and hear it coming from the loud, repetitive noises of “Up, up” (whatever that means) and their garish color choices.

If you look for too long though, you are likely to go blind because their only covering is lycra, which leaves little to the imagination.

Still confused?

I am talking about the streams of cyclists that plague our roads (at least in Australia, they do).

I had almost forgotten about them until I had to deal with a group of about 15 elderly cyclists (an older caterpillar) the other day, not on the road but on the footpath. It didn’t move at the same speed as the younger, more versatile ones, but it was just as dangerous because it did not have the same control.

These caterpillars have no respect for anyone or anything that comes in their path; they don’t even have respect for their own kind!

The day I nearly killed a segment

One morning several years ago, when I was driving to work in the early hours of the morning, a lycra caterpillar with about 40 segments was coming from the opposite way.  Suddenly, one of the segments (in a bright fluorescent orange top and green shorts) came hurtling across the road onto my side, right in front of me.

I saw my life flash before me, as I am sure he did.

However, he may have experienced that warm sensation between your legs when put into an intense state of shock.

Thankfully, the anti-lock brakes on my car kicked in, and he stopped in front of me by some miracle. I only clipped his front wheel, and he fell onto the road.

What was I to do? I got out, my heart beating, and I was ready to give him a serve when he started profusely apologizing as he picked himself up off the ground.

I packed his bike, which had a crumpled and bent front wheel, into the back of my car and offered to drive him into the city.

As we were driving (his dirty bicycle in the back of my clean car and him sitting on a blanket in the passenger seat because of his wet backside, he explained that he had got too close to one of his fellow (I use the term loosely) riders who just shoved him out of his way.

To keep his balance and not be consumed by the ten other segments trailing behind him, he had no choice but to veer into the oncoming traffic — namely me!

Not a nice animal

These lycra caterpillars are insidious pests. Apart from the fact that they don’t pay registration to use or maintain the roads, they are so self-righteous.

In my driving career (more than 40 years), I have never seen or heard of a cyclist getting a fine. However, I have regularly seen segments of even small caterpillars go straight through a pedestrian crossing and even red traffic lights.

They also have this unprecedented tendency to swarm. Have you ever successfully negotiated around a lycra caterpillar (usually by taking your life into your own hands) only to be thwarted by a red light?

You stop and see the beast in your rear vision mirror, coming for another go at you. They don’t’ always stop as a complete caterpillar. No, they engulf your vehicle like some sick amoeba in their quest to get to the front. Your only option is to remain in its clutches until you have passed through like a bad curry, only to go through the whole exercise again.

When cyclists get together in these long caterpillars, all ethics go out the window.  Not only for other users of the road, but as this story shows,  even when one of their legs drops off.

An ever-changing beast

The lycra caterpillar is known for its ever-changing formation. They swap all the time. The head becomes the arse, only to become the head again and they are almost always two abreast.

This constantly changing pattern means it is very difficult for a vehicle to overtake them unless it crosses the middle of the road. If a similar caterpillar or car is coming in the opposite direction, then you are in big trouble.

I admire people for getting out and exercising, but the roads are not a free-for-all or a make-shift tour de France!

What happened to the good old days when only 3–4 mates went out for a bike ride?

Share your thoughts about your interaction with a lycra caterpillar.

Till next time,

Calvin