I’ve been told I’m a bit psychotic and need help after posting a little anecdote as a comment on a YouTube video. It’s prompted an uncharacteristic bout of self-analysis while I was on the indoor trainer this morning ……. and after some deep inner soul searching and deeper self reflection on the incident in question and my actions I’ve reached a conclusion. Psychotic? No, don’t think so. Do I need help? well I don’t think I need to check myself into anger management rehab just yet.

Let me explain….. first the video. One of my fav biking YouTubers Juliet Elliot recently posted a video in which she expressed her annoyance when she and a friend picked up an unannounced ‘wheelsucker’ during one of her rides. For anyone who’s not familiar with the term ‘wheelsucker’ is one of those cycling specific phrases that seems impenetrable to the uninitiated. It’s used to refer to a rider who sits behind you close enough to benefit from your slipstream and the protection you provide from the wind, but won’t take a turn on the front to share the work.

This is one of those awkward areas of cycling etiquette. It’s a legitimate tactic in racing but on a group social ride or club run it can just be annoying. When an unknown stranger does it to you out on the road it’s usually fine. Two riders are faster than one, that’s a given. So it’s not unusual for a rider who’s passed by a faster one to try and ‘catch the wheel’ for a bit to get a free speed boost for a mile or too before dropping away and resuming their own pace. I’ve done it before plenty of times and sometimes it can be an absolute God send. I remember last spring grinding my way home in the rain into of course a headwind. I was cold, tired and more than a little fed up. A group of four riders overtook me and I managed to latch on to the back of them. They effectively towed me the next 5 – 6 miles down a fast A road back to the outskirts of the village I live in, and believe me I was glad of the help. Now here’s the etiquette bit. When I latched on to these guys after about 5 minutes I realised I could keep pace so long as I stayed in the wheels at the back. I eased up to the last rider and asked if it was ok to ‘sit on the back’ for a bit and got a thumbs up. I fact once I’d asked and they knew I was there and struggling a bit they even eased off the pace up the next climb so as not to spit me off the back. Top lads, and I made sure they heard my heart felt ‘thanks fellas’ when I peeled off to head home.

And there’s the etiquette part, I asked and they didn’t mind. Sometimes folk don’t ask and that’s just a bit of bad form and can really be quite annoying. That’s what had happened to Juliet on her ride, an unknown rider had latched on to her and her friend, followed them for ages benefiting from their tow without either asking or contributing to the effort by taking a turn at the front, and when their paths diverged he continued on his way without any acknowledgment or thanks, not even a wave of the hand. This had clearly irked Juliet and she made her feelings pretty clear in the video.

This prompted the following comment / anecdote from moi in the comment section which was followed a day or so later with this reply:

It did make me realise that my comment when read in isolation does indeed make me sound like a bit of a dick. I do think ‘psychotic’ is a bit strong, but its a free world…….

Let me add a bit of context and flesh the story out a bit so you can decide for yourselves….. are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin …… (that phrase is going to be so lost on younger readers, but never mind)

So last summer as Lockdown number whatever was dragging on I was probably the fittest I’d been for years. Which means I was riding faster and further than normal. This put me in the unusual position (for me) of regularly catching and passing other riders when out on my bike. (I’m usually much more a be passed than passing kind of cyclist). Out on my bike on the fine morning in question I’m having as I recall what we used to call ‘a good day on the bike’. I’m feeling super strong, the riding seems almost effortless for once and I know I’ll be seeing some good Strava segment times when I upload this ride once I’m home.

There’s a always a lot of riders out around were I am lucky enough to live, cycling is a popular sport on the wild plains of Cheshire and its not unusual to encounter the odd current or ex-pro rider around these parts as a fair few live in the area. The national lockdown had seen a massive surge in numbers as well as many people suddenly with a lot of time on their hands had dusted off long forgotten steeds from the depths of their garage to partake in their daily government sanctioned exercise, and regular riders like myself were enjoying the suddenly traffic free roads to their fullest……. this is all a very long winded way of saying that there where loads of people of all abilities suddenly cycling round my regular local riding loops all of a sudden.

So what happened this particular ride to turn me a bit psychotic? Well nothing really, just your standard interaction between two middle aged men with a dash of slight posturing. Let me explain. So I’m wizzing along a nice straight flat section of country lane at what for me was a fairly impressive lick when I notice in the distance I’m catching another rider. I’m not gaining fast, but I am definitely closing the distance. I hate this sort of situation. And I’m not even particularly sure why. I’m usually convinced they must be faster than me and just going slower as a temporary measure for some reason, that creeping up behind them and then crawling past will be super awkward and then if I can’t hold my pace they’ll catch me again and overtake me back….. I’m really not sure why I’m so paranoid about this stuff, its bloody irrational and probably down to some deep seated riding related insecurities which hark back to getting dropped on club runs as a Junior rider. All I know is that in the past I’ve gone to some lengths to avoid these sort of drawn out catch and pass situations out on the road by either slowing down or changing my route to avoid the perceived awkwardness.

Today however I’m feeling like I’ve got a bit more in the tank as I cruise up behind the rider in front so as I catch and pass him a bit more speed gets wound on so as to make the overtake as quick and clean as possible because this fella is already using quite a lot of the road and I don’t want to be alongside him any longer than necessary as it’s a pretty narrow lane. As I’m going to have to squeeze by him due to his road positioning I pipe up ‘Rider on your right’ as I come up on his wheel expecting him to ease over to the left a touch, but he doesn’t respond. Slightly perplexed I ease off and sit behind for a minute. Maybe he didn’t hear me? Perhaps he’s doing intervals and is about to stamp on the pedals and shoot off down the lane? That’s possible – he’s wearing the jersey of one of the local cycling clubs and from the rear his bike looks like its probably worth more than my car.

Well if he’s not going to move over I’ll just have to go around him then. As I pass with a slightly breathless ‘morning’ he glances over but fails to grace me with a reply…. well its a free world and all that, but that always irks me slightly because, well its just a bit rude. Whatever, that’s his issue, its a loverly day and I’m at one with my bike for once so I’m not going to let this spoil my mood. Knowing its about a mile to the next road junction I perch myself on the nose of the saddle and up the watts to put some distance between us still marvelling at how good my legs are feeling this morning. A few minutes later I came across that perennial hazard of the english country lane, namely a pretty large and fresh laid by the looks of it pile of horse manure, as I was approaching the lightly steaming pile of muck at a fair rate of knots with my head firmly down, I only realised my peril at the last moment and narrowly avoided a splattery doom by flicking my bike hard to the right at the last second. It was only then that I realised my taciturn friend had upped his pace and was now firmly tucked into my slipstream as I heard a yelp of surprise closely followed by a ‘squelch’ from right behind me.

As we rolled up to the next road junction I offered my apologies – ‘sorry about that shit mate, I didn’t know you were on my wheel’ is what I’m pretty sure I said. What I got back as we waited to cross the busy road that bisected the lane we were riding along was a withering look which left me in little doubt that my brother in Lycra felt that I’d done it deliberately, then a terse ‘I wasn’t on your wheel’ fired over his shoulder as he rode off. Now I must confess that this little interaction did somewhat disturb my aura for the next few miles. After following his retreating back for a couple of miles at a safe distance pondering several levels of come back from the witty to the more profane I took the first opportunity I could to peel off down a side road and let our paths gracefully diverge. It is weird how sometimes what seems (especially if you write it down) like quite an innocuous encounter can put you in a disproportionately massive bad mood. I freely admit I was fuming at the time, and I’m still not sure why. Yes he was a bit rude, but he clearly felt he’d been wronged too, yes the unwritten rules of cycling brotherhood had not been observed (arguably on both our parts) but the whole incident put me in an unfeasibly uncharitable frame of mind.

To cap it all off I was pretty sure I was going to see this guy again before too long as the side road I’d taken looped back onto the road he’d continued along after a mile or so. Sure enough about 15 minutes later I was again creeping upon his back wheel with a distinct sense of deja vu. So faced with the same conundrum as before this time I decided to do away with the agonising ‘shall I pass or not?’ phase and just blow straight past this guy. With this second passing I didn’t bother with any attempt at a greeting or salutation as I drew along side him and then pressed on down the lane. This time around however I was fully aware that Mr Grumpy had again upped his pace and was now tucked into my slipstream. Why? I have no idea. Maybe he was tired and just wanted a free tow, maybe he just hated being overtaken my anybody that didn’t shave their legs, or perhaps he was just fascinated by the sight of my derrière? Whatever the reason was he was obviously determined to stay on my wheel for as long as he could. I was pretty maxed out now, nose to the handlebar stem, tucked firmly in the drops and legs pumping away like a spin class instructor. My new shadow stayed resolutely with me and now I was getting truly annoyed. This is when a germ of a plan began to form.

I knew we where fast approaching what I call ‘The Crack’. (insert Ohhhhhhhh noise here with facial expression of impending horror)

The Crack is (or was till I learnt how to bunny hop it) my nemesis on this particular ride. In years past some unnamed and useless contractor dug a narrow trench straight across this road for some long forgotten reason and made a pretty ropey job of filling it in again after they had finished. Over the years this shining example of shoddy British workmanship has become a narrow but quite deep fissure that runs straight across the road making it impossible to avoid. In a car its an annoying blip through the suspension, on a bike its a real hazard for the unwary. I’ve hit it several times over the years and had several punctures and even a dinged rim on a lightweight set of wheels. If you hit it without at least un-weighting the bike its a pretty bone crunching shock, however at only about 6 – 8 inches wide even a rider of my meagre skills can hop over it when they know its there. This was my new shadows fast approaching Waterloo.

Now that all important cyclists etiquette that we mentioned earlier demanded that I as the leading rider pointed out the approaching hazard to the rider behind me who might be unsighted, but this guy had already made it quite clear he didn’t need my help in this respect, so I didn’t bother with the usual hand signal ….. there was as I mentioned in my YouTube comment a crunch and a yelp from behind me and when I glanced back Mr Grumpy was still behind me but had sat up and had obviously decided his time sitting on my wheel was over.

Did I feel guilty? no not really, the guy and been a bit of a prick and maybe next time he’ll think twice about the way he interacts with his fellow cyclists. Am I psychotic? no I don’t think so……. a bit intolerant of people that are rude or badly behaved towards me certainly. I’m sure a better and bigger man would have sucked it all up, let it wash over him and done things differently, but I’m afraid I’m just not that guy. There was no real harm done apart from a nasty jolt and I knew the worst that could really happen was a puncture if he was unlucky.

As to the other charges levelled at me, that I’d endangered a poor innocent new riders safety and was guilty of cyclists elitism because the victim probably didn’t understand the etiquette of situation. Let me assure you this guy knew exactly what he was doing. Nobody riding in club colours on a bike that wouldn’t look out of place in the pro peloton is unaware of these things. This fellow was a seasoned rider. Cyclists elitism I think definitely played a part though – but in the other direction. He just wasn’t over enamoured (and was probably a bit surprised) about being overtaken by somebody with very hairy legs in a loose fitting jersey that proclaimed a fondness for a well know brand of beer, and when it happened the second time he was even less impressed. If anything this is really a lesson for people like him not to judge a book by its hirsute calves.

Anyway thats the whole sorry tale…… not particularly proud of it but equally I don’t feel the need to apologise for it either 🙂