Generally my commute is numpty free. This evening I had three separate people attempting to kill me.
1) A women pulling out of a house into the main road while I was coming towards her at >40 km/h. I realised she was going to perform this stunt and had already started slowing down. I ended up screaming at her just to make her aware of my presence, and even then I'm not 100% sure she knew she'd pulled out on me.
2) Heading towards a roundabout in the middle lane, which was void of traffic. Well it was until a van decided to move from the right hand lane into the middle lane as I was passing. It felt very close and I pulled onto the pavement to recover from the shock. He apologized and said he hadn't seen me in his mirror 
.
3) The diver of a French car pulled out on me as I was sprinting up a hill. I didn't have to use to the brakes because it was steep enough for me to simply stop pedaling.
Hopefully tomorrow morning will be back be normal.
Grr.
It must be a national thing.
I was shocked by two near-misses today: first, a driver nearly t-boned me when he turned right while I was trying to turn left into the the same road. I knew the git had seen me and went anyway, as he stared steadfastly ahead despite my loud "Oi!". Braking to avoid him, I had such a dramatic front wheel skid that I thought the tyre had come off the rim.
Cruised to the bike stands, locked the bike up, checked the tyres. Everything was fine. Stomped along to the car park to head the driver off on his walk to our office. I don't know how much of my angry, shaky rant had an effect, but he looked suitably browbeaten at the end of it.
On the way home, I had to drop something off in Newton Aycliffe, then ride the horrible rat-run through Middridge and Shildon to Bishop Auckland. Hairy, but fine. I was riding into Bishop Auckland, though, and some tosser in a white van nearly left-hooked me. Only my finely-honed reactions saved me, as I saw the turn, noticed the van's approach, saw the blink of the left indicator, BRAKED and screamed "WHOAH!" at speeds which would put a microprocessor to shame. My anger-circuits (already buzzing after the sheer fuckwittery of the day) kicked into action and I yelled "WANKER!" as his wing passed within inches of my front wheel. The van's brake lights came on - I wasn't sure whether he was going to proffer profuse apologies, flowers and a conciliatory drink, or whether he was going to reinforce his argument with the humungous "Peacemaker" spanner he probably keeps on the passenger seat to scare off the tea-leaves. I scarpered before finding out, still grey from the encounter, plotting an escape route in case he did follow me.
A fair gauge of how close it was came a few seconds after, as the two taxicabs which overtook me gave me so much room, I wondered if I was in a Highway Code photoshoot.
Did I mention it was raining? It was hoying down, and cold, and miserable, and I was wet and cold and miserable, so I took the train home, via the supermarket for
BEER.
There's a difference between driving which is merely inconsiderate, and that which is actually dangerous. I don't think either of those specimens realised how far along the scale they were.
