I have a mortal enemy. I’ve never spoken to him, and he’s never even acknowledged that he’s part of my life. At best, he’s noticed me bowling past in my car a couple of times. He’s never actually done anything to me, he just exists. But that’s enough. God, that’s more than enough.
He is Bike Man, and he is a twat.
Bike Man isn’t his real name. It isn’t even his full nickname. His full nickname is Recumbent Bike Man. This is because he has bought one of these bikes:
Just chilling out on my bike, like the cool guy I am.
Which is apparently called a Recumbent Bike. A shit name for a shit idea. A reclining bike.
He’s decided that bikes, with their 150 years of refined design and engineering aren’t right for him. No, he needs to be laying down, chilling out while he goes to work. He’s not chilling out at all, for at least nine months he’s contending with dark and rain, and constantly having to work his legs first thing in the morning. If he wants a rest, get a car. You can sit down and listen to music.
There is literally no way in which it is better than having an actual bike, and you look like a massive tosser at the same time. Every morning when I see him, I hope he wobbles and falls into the ditch like the bespectacled wannabe Tour De France riding cockhole that he is.
There’s no justification for this, it’s completely my fault. Riding around in his pro-cycling gear as though he’s Lance Armstrong and not just a commuter. He annoys me, okay? Is that so wrong? Just ride the fucking bike like a proper fucking person. God it makes me so mad.
I am a recumbent rider. I like my bike, a lot, and I really don’t give a flying xxxx what you think of me for it; what business is it of yours anyway? I enjoy my ride, laid back to get an aerodynamic advantage—I can go faster on the flat with less wind resistance and get the satisfaction that it’s all by my own efforts, the speed I can reach without motor assistance. You hate the fact that in urban areas at least, I have quicker, more reliable and enjoyable journeys; I’m healthier, fitter; I have a better quality of life and I am contributing something significant to society, simply by not driving very often. I experience the world outside the hermetically sealed tin box; my view is enhanced by my recumbent position with good forward visibility. I get to stop and park where I please, no charges or restrictions, take a detour along the canal, enjoy the parks on sunny days and go cycling at weekends, perhaps 50, 100 miles, with friends.
It’s you I have an issue with. You, a no-life, larding about in your stupid antisocial four-wheeled space waster, parping disgusting carcinogenic fumes into the atmosphere, causing real and present danger to all around you, blowing your horn for no good reason and ‘doing your bit’ towards making the lives of people living, working, walking along urban streets just a bit more miserable. The majority of people on my route to work don’t own cars, they just have to put up with the fallout from your poor quality driving.
You didn’t ‘bowl’ past me this morning, I probably ‘bowled’ past you, as you sat, seething, banging your steering wheel and swearing at other drivers and at the empty, glorious bus lane along which I sped at up to 30mph, a pretty respectable speed for a moderately unfit bloke on a bike, wearing ordinary clothing. A little later, 80 people passed you in that bus lane, in a bus; that’s maybe 60 fewer cars on the road in front of you than there would have been. About 55% of people driving cars today admit they could, walk, cycle or use public transport instead. Now, that would clear the roads. Doesn’t it make you want to bang your steering wheel?
There you are, sitting in your stinkbox, all on your own or with a reluctant passenger who secretly knows you’re a bad driver with temper issues, summoning up more miserable garbage to put onto this website, to add to all the other miserable garbage on this website, a repository for the thoughts of those who know very little about anything much, and who grasp at ‘straw facts’ to make their ill-considered points. As I cycled away from you, arrived at work, changed and bought a coffee, you were left to seethe, swear and sweat, promising violence to all others, another day, another bloody awful journey.
I hired a street car the other day—because I needed to carry some heavy items. It took me an hour and a quarter to do 7 miles because of congestion. I was miserable for the duration. I banged my steering wheel, pressed my horn uselessly and swore at other drivers, the empty bus lane, the pedestrians in the way and some show-off on a recumbent; in the process creating a bad place. And I hated myself for it, I hated the person the car turned me into—a decent human being morphed through some dreadful magic trick into some sort of ugly monster, my flesh creeping with the stress of driving and sheer, uncontrollable yet unventable, frustrated anger. Thank goodness my I haven’t wrapped my life around dependence on a car; I think I’d want to top myself.
By the way, it takes me 20-25 minutes to do the same, urban journey by bike, including far too many delays caused by traffic lights. Ride a bike.
I quite like driving, and on the country roads I drive on, it’s pretty quick. I’d pay money to see you doing 60 on your wee recliner on wheels.
I think Recumbentrider needs to grow the xxxx up.
Grow up Recumbentrider.
You need to grow up.
You need to get bigger.
Grow. Upwards.
Recumbentrider is obviously of the deluded opinion that everyone works & lives in an urban environment. I’m lucky enough to live in a fairly rural area of Cambridgeshire, & require a car for most journeys – purely down to time or distance constraints.
The average morning commute is, for me, fairly pleasant. My “hermetically sealed tin box” is a place of refuge, one of the few places (alongside my en-suite…) where I’m perfectly alone to contemplate my day. Traffic can, at times, be a little tedious – but there’s always another cheeky little country road I can detour through to keep momentum up.
One of the few things that DOES impair my morning’s enjoyment is the local Recumbent Bike Man, who believes it pertinent to ride his daft contraption regardless of the weather. Whilst I’m sure that poncing around on an arse-about-tit bike is a very civilised way to commute to work on a sunny day in June, Mark Antony himself couldn’t persuade me to believe that it’s any fun in the depths of winter.
The Cambridgeshire fens can get particularly windy at times, & there’s nothing more dangerous than a pernicious little twat on an upside-down bike weaving & wavering all over the road whenever a gale picks up.
This prick makes me late regularly, purely because 1) he likes to feel contrary, & 2) it’s illegal for me to mercilessly plough him down, cackling into my rear-view mirror as I watch his broken corpse tumble through the air & into the muddy ditch it belongs.
[Recumbent Bike Man] – [Urban Environment] + [Windy Weather] = [Complete Twat]
I secretly know you’re a bad driver with temper issues. It makes me so mad to sit there next you, while you summon up more miserable garbage to put onto this website, to add to all the other miserable garbage on this website, a repository for the thoughts of those who know very little about anything much, and who grasp at ‘straw facts’ to make their ill-considered points.
After reading Recumbentrider’s well-thought-out, informative and impartial post, I’ve decided to buy a recumbent bike, as I refuse to sit in your stinkbox any longer.
P.S. What the heck are ‘straw facts’?
Great post, Reluctant Passenger, you will no longer have to put up with One-man-axis-of-evil’s drivel. As for ‘Straw facts’, I was visualising those intellectually challenged respondents ‘grasping at straws’ in a sea of ill-informed prejudice but still drowning, even though a lifebelt of facts is but a Google search away. Maybe a weak analogy but still somewhat better than the inarticulate, offensive expletive-laden tabloid garbage expressed by the original author I’ve nicknamed One-man-axis-of-evil due to his somewhat ‘exciting’ posting history.
As for doing 60–no I don’t, and I don’t intend to, but the world speed record for a human powered vehicle was set in the US in 2001, on a fully-faired recumbent, at 80.55mph, and in fact, recumbents are far more fun used in the countryside than in town–they may be slower than cars. Regarding growing up, I let readers be the judge of who–’Mytwocents’ or me–is the most mature, and as for ‘needing a car in Cambridgeshire’–well, you’ve built your life around car dependence, and I feel sorry for you, especially as petrol prices are going to keep on rising along with all the other costs of living, e.g. increased tax, no child benefit, food costs, higher VAT and the cost of your road tax no longer going into roads… riding a bike (of any sort) helps you save money all round and have fun at the same time!
Reluctant passenger might like to look at the Bikefix website http://www.bikefix.co.uk to view current models; nearer to him is D-Tek Recumbents, based at Ely. Most recumbents cost between £1500 and £2300, though as with almost anything you can certainly pay more. I’d recommend getting one with a large rear wheel, such as a Challenge Hurricane SL, rather than one with both wheels @20″–I’ve found to my cost that the small wheels restrict speed, partly because you spend a lot of time slowing down to avoid potholes. A fairing, either full or partial, will increase your speed noticeably.
Ride a bike.
Congratulations on completely missing the point of Reluctant Passenger’s sarcasm.
I bet you have a beard and glasses.
On your bike.
I am so very confused, why does this bother you to much? Im a grown man, I could care less about how someone else is living their life. Im pretty confused as I stumbled on this website while google imaging reclining bikes because I saw one today and thought it looked like a kool idea for someone who rides a normal bike to work like me. Are you serious about your view or is it a joke? seems like a lot of wasted frustration.
A normal bike usually has a seat that makes my boys uncomfortable, this seems like a nice comfortable solution.
We do get a lot of stick with these machines-I have had bottles of water thrown at me from passing cars and lads of a certain age delight in creeping up in low gear in their souped up saxos to shout at the tops of their lungs as they speed away laughing. Or grumpy drivers mouthing obcenities at me. Lets face it, no cyclist delays a driver for THAT long.
The positive comments from pedestrians, drivers and cyclists far outnumber the negative. Mine is SO comfortable and carries a huge amount of luggage. It took the stress from my neck, wrists and back that a diamond frame causes from being crouched over drop handlebars and allows me to keep aggressive osteoarthritis in check with regular exercise while not aggravating it unduly-before I started riding again I had almost seized up.
I visit friends and relations (yes we do have some-and my parents were married) and tour Britain on it and on the 180 mile sponsored ride I did last year in two days I only had two incident with car drivers-the rest were very kind and curteous to me. I raised over £500 for charity which I doubt many drivers manage-and I include myself in that as a driver.
Live and let live I say.
ANOTHER ASPECT OF RIDING RECUMBENT BIKES CONCERNS DISABLED PEOPLE, LIKE MYSELF, WHO FOR MANY VARIED RESONS CAN NOT SIT ERECT TO RIDE A ‘NORMAL’ BIKE OR DRIVE A CAR. IT GIVES US FREEDOM TO GO OUTSIDE THE 4 WALLS THAT LOCK US IN OUR HOMES THROUGH LACK OF MOBILITY