I wrote recently of the things that piss me off, with number 6. being;
6. Super commuters racing you when you're on your way home from a 2–3 hour ride in the morning, and they're doing their 5km push to town, like really!
Today I was lucky enough to encounter a super hubbardus maximus, more commonly known as a super hubbard to the power of maximum.
Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of super hubbards out there. Many of them are nice, friendly, caring cyclists that just have a penchant for neon or hi-viz gear, bar-end or helmet attached mirrors, and unusually long, grey beards. These guys (and girls, I hear facial hair becomes more common in women with age) are the cream of the crop, lovely types that cycle for fun and fitness blah blah blah.
Where the super hubbard steps over the line from friendly cruiser to fucktard, is in an instance like today's.
I had been out to Samford, and not feeling particularly inspired, I decided to come home and do a bit of the flat bikepath to make up a couple of hours. I am on Samford rd waiting at the lights at the intersection between Upper Kedron Rd and Samford Rd. A super hubbardus maximus comes from Upper Kedron Rd, and makes it round the corner a bit before the light goes green for me.
Having no intention or inclination to really do any intensity today, I ride tempo up the climb that follows on Samford rd, catching up to the super hubbard, in his smallest gear, spinning haphazardly like a kitchenaid mix-master on the blink. It was not pretty and looked like an accident waiting to happen as he swayed on the road.
The road flattened and then kicked up again, and when there was a wide enough shoulder to pass safely I did so.
Aha! This is where it becomes super hubbardy to the maximus—descending down past Keperra towards Mitchelton, the road is thick with traffic and there is no shoulder. The road is also a bit botchy in places. Fat hubbard decides that as he is a supreme descender, he must overtake me (because it's not that he weighs 30kg more than me that he goes faster down the hill, it's because he's faster...right?).
Look I have no problem with people passing me, even on a descent if they look like they're going somewhere in a hurry and they're keeping it moving.
What I DO have a problem with is a few things in today's instance;
1. I overtook him like he was standing still, and dropped him;
2. he accelerated (like a botchy mix-master, mind you) to get past me;
3. on a dodgy piece of road;
4. that was chockers full of traffic;
5. hence endangering both himself and I as he swung out into the middle of the left lane, no doubt without a glance;
6. the traffic topped a few hundred meters after that, and I was stuck behind i, who was stuck behind a van (struggling to get his feet out of the pedals, mind you!).
So you can see there are a few things wrong with this picture. And I wonder to myself—would this happen so frequently if I was a guy? I don't know, but I am guessing it would happen less.
As he stopped at Mitchelton, I said, "mate, that was unsafe and you need to learn some bike etiquette and skills". He, of course, had his ipod on (lovely look along with crappy XC helmet, skins with running shorts over the top, Black Wolf back-pack and black singlet, exposing his tuckshop-lady arms.
He didn't hear me, or perhaps he was relishing his reverse-king-of-the-mountain in suburbia victory and was bathing in his own twat-like glory.
Anyhoo, as the traffic moved off along Samford rd, and I turned off towards the bike path, I yelled out a final "Get some fucking bike skills" as he struggled to clip into his pedal. He would have heard that one, I'm sure.