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    • CommentAuthorNestor
    • CommentTimeApr 27th 2007
     
    Just a thought but have Buses upped the aggro recently?
    In the past couple of weeks I have had a couple of drivers cutting in very close and letting me know by the body language
    that they are not happy.
    Perhaps I am just getting slower or are they upset that spring has sprung more cyclists on the road.
    If it gets worse they will have a D lock through the windscreen,
    regards
    keep up the great work
    Nestor
    • CommentAuthorifbm
    • CommentTimeApr 27th 2007
     
    Totally agree, they're my pet hate, worse than taxis. Biggest problem is they've never learnt what f**king wing mirrors are for. I've had my revenge a few times though, I'm afraid one involved spitting. My favorite was a national express coach that cut me up crashing (slowly) into the back of another coach cos he was so busy looking at me shouting at him from the pavement. No one was hurt but his whole front window was smashed....classic
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      CommentAuthorwinston
    • CommentTimeApr 28th 2007
     
    I think spitting is about as insulting and shocking as you can get.....so yeah definitely a good last resort response to someone who nearly killed you....but beware, bus drivers have been issued with saliva collecting kits for DNA testing, so if you're gonna shoot spit make sure you've got a good escape route......
  1.  

    Aye to what Winston said: drivers go mental when you spit. Never really understood why. Must be an Anglo-Saxon thing.

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      CommentAuthorstupidP
    • CommentTimeMay 1st 2007
     
    I once got forced to mount the kerb in Fleet street, bout 10.30 am, I lost what little was left of it and as the centre doors opened, boarded the bus with my bike. It was now the drivers turn to loose it, he was screaming this and that, “You can’t be doing this, it’s not allowed” I pointed out that clearly I could and had and demanded an apology, seamed reasonable. It looked like a Mexican stand of was imminent and I turned to face the hapless passengers hoping that I wasn’t going to be a victim a vicious late for work mob. A bloke in crispy Blue Harbour™ and shiny shoes stood up and produced a warrant card from his pocket. Oh F**K. Said City of London plod was on his way to work, I was given a wee lecture on how narrow the roads where and how we all had to get on, tempers fraying, jobs to be done. He placated the situation admirably.

    I exited “sheepishly” through the front door.

    I would rather deliver pizza after midnight in Clapton than drive a bus.
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      CommentAuthor_targetbot
    • CommentTimeMay 4th 2007