Two wheels, and both of them dangerous

This article is by SMH columnist, Danny Katz. It's not as anti-cycling as it may first appear. Read it through the lens of irony. Enjoy.

Aknowledgement: "Two wheels, and both of them dangerous" is written by SMH and Age columnist, Danny Katz. On-line: June 6, 2011 - 11:49AM

"They're the bullies of the roadways, they're the most aggressive vehicles on the street, they're just big-tyred energy-guzzling eyesores that intimidate every car driving around them — and it's time something was done about those 2-Wheel Non-Drive vehicles they call bicycles.

Pushy pushbikers, they're always whinging about how dangerous it is for THEM on the roads, but it's actually us gentle harmless car drivers in our small vulnerable metal-enclosed cars who are terrified of cyclists and their pedal-powered "death-machines". Notice how cyclists go out of their way to break every road rule? You could be waiting patiently in a traffic jam, but a 2-Wheel Non-Driver thinks they're too good for that — they'll just get off their bike, lift it up on to the kerb, and walk it along the footpath! If I picked up my Hyundai Sportswagon and walked it along the footpath there'd be a big hoo-ha, but cyclists do whatever they like; such arrogance! And the way they park their 2-Wheel vehicles wherever they please, just chaining them to a light pole or a park bench — why don't THEY have to pay 32 bucks an hour to park in a multistorey car park with no safety barriers on the 8th floor?

Cyclists don't seem to care about road safety either. Sometimes when I open my driver's-side door without looking, a cyclist will ride up really close and try to rip off the door with their upper-body — I don't understand this extreme hostility towards us! Or around primary schools when cyclist-parents pick up their kids in huge oversized off-road bikes with a kiddie-caboose on the back! — they'll ride those huge monstrosities right up to the school gates where little children are wandering around, it's downright dangerous! Why do they need such enormous bikes anyway? If you're a farmer-cyclist or a tradie-cyclist, fine, but for school pick-ups? Outrageous!

And, of course, there's the brutish aggression of racing-cyclists on souped-up hoon-cycles: last Sunday I was driving along a bayside road, innocently weaving in and out of the bike lane, and a whole gang of cyclists tried to overtake me ON THE INSIDE at reckless speeds of up to 20 kilometres an hour, forcing me to swerve dangerously back into the car lane! I could've been killed, but I was too scared to say anything to them — they looked very threatening with their hairless calves and taut torsos. Some of the men even appeared to be concealing small metal-pipes down the front of their cycling shorts to use as weapons.
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And one more thing: I'm fed up with their general sense of superiority. They think they're so eco-conscious but I've seen cyclists riding up hills, huffing and puffing and emitting their fair share of CO2 — if cyclists want to reduce carbon emissions, the least they can do is cut back on exhalations. And OK, maybe they're slightly more fit and healthy, but do they have to taunt us so cruelly by wiggling their sexy pert buttocks in our faces as they ride by? It just makes us feel insecure and unattractive, sitting in our cars, our arse-flab dribbling over the edge of the seat into the little gap where the handbrake is.

Pushy pushbikers: it's time they showed a little consideration for us poor victimised petrol-dependent parking-overcharged traffic-jammed ozone-depleting beanbag-bummed motorists. And I even haven't even mentioned those 4-Wheel Non-Drives — the recumbent-bike. Just keep right away from those big buggers or you'll get viciously sideswiped by a bearded old hippie with an engineering degree.'


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Decyclerata

The cyclist's answer to Max Ehrmann's Desiderata (remember baby boomers of the 1970's: "Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence ... etc) was published in Push On in Nov/Dec 2010. It is so humourous, it is worth publishing the link to Garry Weick's Decyclerata here.

As a tempter, it begins: "Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in separated cycle lanes. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all car drivers ... "

Cycological Fun for a Rainy Day

Linsey Pollak is a musicologist who lives on the Gold Coast. He uses weird bits and pieces to make music. So, next time it's raining, here's something you might do with your bicycle parts. If this isn't crazy enough, you can always join with other cyclists to form a trio, as Linsey has done, called the cycologists.

The Theory of Big (or, How to claim your space on the road)

The views expressed below are those of the writers themselves, and do not reflect the opinions or position of Coffs Harbour BUG or Bicycle NSW in any way.

When I restarted cycling at the age of 50+, I searched the Net looking for safety tips for cyclists. That's when I first saw the article reproduced below. Every now and then I come back to it. I love the author's style and sense of humour. His ideas really give a cyclist something to think about. I have taken the liberty of copying the article to our Bug site as smaller sites have a habit of disappearing overnight. The article is written by a British cyclist. I hope you enjoy the article as much as I do. From Carrie Trike.

My Aussie experience of the Theory of Big
by Carrie Trike (c) 2010

In a previous life, I developed my own Theory of Big. At the time, I was working at Auburn (centre of Sydney, Australia) and drove daily in peak hour traffic. The route included Victoria Rd, Silverwater Rd and Parramatta Rd. Yee ha, Grandma! Mr. Toad would have loved it. Poop! Poop!

The icing on the cake were the semi-trailers that lined up to collect their loads after the O/N (overnight) run from Brissy (Brisbane) or Melbourne. The light industrial area with all its accompanying trucks was a piece of cake in comparison! The drive took 45 minutes. There were 17 sets of traffic lights in 13 km. It would have been good training for the Bathurst 500 except the cars went in all directions.

I had a small car - a Corolla Hatch which had to be off the road for 6 weeks due to an argument it had lost with a car on my left. This car had gone through a Stop sign in a desperate attempt to get to know my car better. A friend offered me the loan of a Nikki (a Fiat Bambino rebadged by the Polish - a tiny, tinny car) for the duration of the Corolla's stay in hospital. My friend rode his BMW motor-bike to work in preference to the Nikki. This should've been my first clue. That he'd won the Nikki in a raffle was my second clue. He held the Nikki in such high-esteem that it was currently used to store his dogs' food (True!). My third clue. It was waiting to be driven to his hobby farm near Bathurst. It was covered in cobwebs such was his hesitation to usher it over the Blue Mountains and west to Bathurst. No more clues were necessary.

Despite knowing all this, I accepted his offer. What can I say? That I was desperate?

When I sat in the driver's seat for the very first time, my fears were confirmed. The top of my head (I'm 161 cm short) touched the inside of the roof, and the roof wobbled each time my head touched it. Such was the musicality of the sounds it made that it would have put Rolf Harris' wobble-board playing to shame.

Foolishly, I rejected my friend's offer of the loan of a motor-bike helmet as I drove away. The image was too ridiculous to contemplate - me driving this car with a full-face helmet? I was a school teacher, what would the kids think, let alone jeer as I drove into the high-school car park?

"Do you wear your helmet visor up or down, miss?" No, the image of me driving this car with a helmet was too ridiculous to contemplate.

As I careened to a halt at the first Stop sign I came to, I realised, the sweat trickling off my palms and onto the steering wheel (yes, it had one), that the brakes worked but not all that well. And they were definitely not ABS. Had the Poles heard of disc brakes? I pondered. Or, were these rear drum brake only, like my first car (a 1952 Morris Minor 850)? Sadly, I knew the answer as I thought the question. My stomach churned.

Later, I was to dwell on the eternal dilemma: "Why, in our society, are we prepared undertake risky behaviour for the sake of social conformity?" Me, who won't park the car in the home garage without putting on my seat belt first but I wouldn't put on a helmet in this tin can of a car. I found my understanding of the 17 year old hoons I taught deepening in leaps and bounds. At the time, I was 40+ and the mother of two small children yet I chose to take the risk rather than risking the derision.

During the ensuing 6 weeks, I developed my own Theory of Big and it worked! I survived the next 8 years of peak hour traffic without mishap! (from Carrie Trike)

The Theory of Big (a British viewpoint)

"From our earliest days we have been indoctrinated by this nation's pathological love affair with the motor car. As a hangover of the class system of antiquity, we, the unfortunate possessors of a healthy mind and body, are bombarded daily with the mistaken view that roads are for cars. Driven, sometimes literally, off the roads by our fellow citizens in steel boxes, we begin to realise that never before in history have so many been subject to so much machinery.

It's not just using the cars that is a problem. Without the resources to house their cherished possessions properly, our social betters see fit to leave the stabling of their salary-sucker to be a stumbling block for the rest of us, whether it be on the pavement or on the Queen's highway.

So, from where does the problem come? Deep within the subconcious of every British citizen is the acceptance of the motor vehicle's priority on the roads, fortunately with no basis in law. 'Roads were made for cars' is a common refrain that exemplifies the convoluted thinking that carbon monoxide and benzene can induce.

There is the self-belief that any person who dares to shrug off their carapace and emerge naked to their environment on the road is some bicycling Baldrick or a forelock tugging "yer 'umble servant, sir". Such types as are fit only to be driven off the road at the whim of Mr Toad as he goes past on his more important journey. 'Poop poop!' and a cloud of exhaust are all that remain as he thunders off into the distance whilst you pull yourself out of the hedge. Never mind that roads were created for people to use for transport (not for people to use as car parks).

How does one claim one's space on the road without the support of a herd of highland cattle? This is where the Theory of BIG comes in.

Life on the roads is a power struggle. Not of physical ability, but of psychology with roots in the antiquity of animal behaviour.

The late twentieth century Homo sapiens (the nomenclature comittee is revising the specie's classification), unlike the rest of the animal kingdom, has been stripped of its evolutionary heritage. There are no natural displays of preening or prowess that are socially acceptable so we have subverted transport to be our display of BIG. If we have a display that is more BIG than the other guy then we win. He backs off. We get the girl (at least that is what the advertisements say). This isn't quite true. One can display a generally fit, healthy body in best evolutionary manner, but not when sat inside a car.

Beer drinking, pay packet, driving prowess, prettyness of girlfriend. All these are lads' new evolutionary power struggles. And the most insidious of these is transport.

Ever heard a group of company reps talking? 'I was doing 100 in the outside lane when a rep-mobile GT pulls up behind me and wants to overtake. No way, cos I've got a rep-mobile GTX and there's no way I'd let a mere GT go past me'. Loss of BIG you see. All psychological. Willing to be a stupid git to out psyche someone he's never met and probably will never see again. All to boost his self-BIG.

But how does this work out when you are on a bike and I am in a car. Surely you lose by default?

Not at all. BIG in transport terms is partly about what you drive and partly about how good a driver you are. And the drivers have already lost to the cyclists. Every time you pass a car in a traffic jam his BIG shrinks. You have just told him by your presence that despite all his prowess at driving and super smart car, you are still getting from A to B faster than him. Ouch, that hurts.

And appearance counts too. A scratch on your shiny new year's model Fraud Mundano GLTXi turbo is like turning up to a formal dinner in shorts and a baggy-T. Unthinkable. It says 'even though I have a great car I am a crap driver'. And cyclists do a lot of damage when you hit them. They have lots of sharp sticky out bits that can remove wing mirrors or scratch body work. Definitely to be avoided.

He will remember this. So remind him. Say 'I've got more BIG than you' as you take your rightful place on the road and let him be subservient to you. You get the girl. He gets a heart attack. After all, you can wear lycra and get away with it and he has to suffer with a shirt on a coathanger.

But driving prowess is what leads the macho rep to only leave 6 inches from wing mirror to cyclist as he brushes past. So good he can hold a line that close, preferably the faster the better. Obviously, he has to allow you the space that you use on the road, as hitting you means he loses face. And how much space you for something on the road depends on how BIG it is.

BIG isn't about how large you are but about how large you seem. The rules of BIG are very simple. Be visible. Be noticed. Be in the way. Be expensive. The more BIG you have, the more space needs to be left.

Ever seen a car brush past a moving, wobbly, deferential Baldrick-on-a-bike with a scant hands breadth to spare, only to leave room for a double decker bus to pass between it and the skip further down the road? BIGger things need a BIGger distance when you pass it.

Be visible.

If they don't see you they won't remember to bow down and worship the ground you pedal over. So be seen. BIG things to wear are solid bright colours. Prefereably big and baggy so they flap a bit. Gives a bit more uncertainty where the edge is. Broken patterns and suchlike are not BIG. They merge with the transport background and break up your outline to a lot of SMALL rather than one BIG.

Wide tyres, wide panniers, anything to make the bike BIG. And don't forget to signal. Makes drivers take a bit more notice. BIG signals with BIG eye contact. 'I am turning right, just see if I don't'.
Be noticed.

Just another bicyclist? Not me mate. I'm different. You'll notice me. A trailer on the back. It has it's own BIG from it's size, but it hits what passes for the driver's brain more because they are not used to it. Different is BIG. A recumbent or a tandem is BIG. Heck, even riding along with a silly hat on or a dinosaur with wings is pretty BIG. A child seat and 'Baby on Board' sticker is also good.

Another trick is to wobble slightly. If you look unsafe on a bike (it takes a lot of practice to get a really good wobble going) then they will notice you more, increasing your BIG. And movement across the field of vision is BIGger than movement towards or away.

Be in the way.

OK, how much room do you need to ride a bike on the road? The least I have ever used was about four inches from kerb to wheel whilst being brush-passed by a juggernaught at 40+mph (64+kph). Big laundry bill that day.

But how much do you really need to be a law abiding cyclist? Try this. Ride along at your normal distance from the edge of the road. Now open up your Highway code and do a proper left turn signal. Thats right, arm straight out. If you are really BIG then you won't have slapped the pedestrian waiting to cross at the lights around the face by accident, or wrapped your elbow around the Belisha beacon*. There you go. A minimum is so you can perform legal signals and still be totally on the road.

OK, so you are now a bit further out, maybe further than you are used to. And now you discover something. BIG things stick out further into the road than little things. And BIG things need more room. And strangely enough, the more room you take up, the more space cars leave for you!

Broadly speaking, cars will leave you as much room as you leave yourself so keep out from the edge of the road about the same distance you want cars to keep out from you.

This is only a guideline. Sometimes you will have left just enough room for the driver to sneak through without having to alter course and you still get brush-passed. Not what you want. So move out a bit more. Enough so he has to conciously move around you. If you have to be steered around then you are really BIG and need to be left more space. About level with the front nearside wing, just inside the wheel track that has been nicely swept clean of broken indicator and windscreen glass and other motor effluent that the master race deem the peasant classes worthy of riding over.

Now put the boot on the other foot. Imagine you are the victim of a cruel conspiracy and are forced to transport yourself inside a glass and metal cage everywhere. You come to a road junction where you have to give way. Where are you looking? At the cars of course.

So, thankfully reverting to uncaged mode, where do you want to be to be seen? Where people are looking! Yup, and they are looking at the line of cars so you want to be tucked right up against the pavement ... not! Get into the line of sight and you will be seen. Stay out of it and you won't be. People see BIG things. BIG things are what people see. BIG is in the line of sight.

Now of course one doesn't need to get in the way if the road is plenty wide enough to share, but only when it is uncomfortably narrow for Mr Toad to steer his fume conditioned three-piece-suite-in-a-tin alongside you without giving you the space you need.

Cowering in the dirt and potholes of the gutter, your body language screaming 'I am not worthy, O great infernally combustioned one. Chastise me for presuming to use this road and taking a mere second of your time for that urgent trip down the corner shop for a packet of fags and the Sunday paper. It is my just reward if I am left bleeding and injured amongst the remains of my bicycle as you continue your blissful journey onwards.' is not a particularly BIG attitude, but it is what our autocracy would have you believe.

Let me tell you a secret: They are not telling the truth.

Be expensive.

Running over a child is still frowned upon in this society. Having to admit you ran a child on a bike off the road is a bad thing for your BIG. What an excuse for having children? No, but a child seat is a useful accessory for carrying the shopping and if you have a nice high-backed one the cars can't see there is no child in it until they are past.

On the other hand, wearing a police uniform (when allowed to, of course!) is about as BIG as you can get. Wait a few months till the bike police are out in force and then go get your black and white helmet with POLITE written on it and your bright yellow jacket with reflective stripes...

Have you ever wondered why so many people ride motorbikes whilst wearing 'Hell's Angels' type denim jackets or leathers? Well, imagine what would happen if you carved one of these salubrious characters up in your car.. not a pretty sight? So you leave them plenty of space. The consequences of hitting them are quite BIG.

The scale of BIG

BIG calculator

Add up the relevant sections below and see what your own BIG is:

Cyclist type

Uniformed policeman on a bike 10
Tricycle, Bike with trailer 8
Well lit, visible touring cyclist at the right distance from the kerb 6
Well lit, visible touring cyclist at the kerb 3
Unlit cyclist at night (no cycle friendly law) 1
Unlit cyclist in long black coat creeping along the pavement in a university town 0

Bicycle type

Road Racing bike 0
Mountain bike 1
Bike with panniers fitted 2
Recumbent bike/Tandem 3
More than two wheels (Tricycles, trailers etc) 4
Any bike with no rear lights at night 1
Any bike, no rear lights or reflectors 0
Bonus for any number >1 of bright (>=10W) lights at night (to a maximum of 4) 1

Clothing

No reflectives at night time 0
Dark 'natural' clothing 0
Bright jazzy patterned clothing 1
Bright solid colours/Good reflectives at night 2
Stark naked 2

Position

Taking a narrow lane 4
Creeping along the kerb 0
Just outside the car wheel tracks (medium road) 1
Just inside the car wheel tracks (medium road) 3
On a shared use path 0 (I'd give you minus if I could!)

Add it all up and get a score out of ten.

Your rating:

0-2 Imminent Road Kill
3-5 Bicycling Baldrick
6-8 Effective Cyclist
9-10 Road Warrior

Where do I rate? Somewhere between 8 and 10 depending on circumstances (I just got some super bright headlamps and it depends whether I take the trailer or not)."

Theory of BIG copyright (c) David Martin 1998

* A Belisha beacon is an orange globe lamp on top of a tall black and white pole, marking pedestrian crossings of roads in the U.K., Ireland, Singapore and Hong Kong. (Source: Wikipedia)

Princess Lycra and the Evil Delivery Man

This story equals those humorous pieces published in SMH. And by one of our own - thanks, Emma R.

Once upon a time in a magical land...

Princess Lycra was riding her enchanted bicycle through her kingdom in the early morning light as she oft did, with her magic AyUps spreading goodness and light on all before her, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, appeared the evil newspaper delivery man (ENDM), swerving across the yellow brick road from this side to that side, dispatching his logs of tabloid diatribe into the gardens of the poor simple villagers.

Even though the ENDM saw the beautiful Princess Lycra heading towards him, he guided his carriage of evil directly across her path to satisfy his dastardly desires of newspaper ejection. At this wickedness, Princess Lycra was shaken but not stirred,and after applying her faithful Ultegra brakes she avoided the carriage of evil.
Princess Lycra, not being a candy arse, then cast a potent spell upon the ENDM as he passed by. The ENDM, upon hearing the Princess's spell, responded with an antispell of "can't you see I'm delivering papers". Of course this antispell was impotent against the enchanted Princess, who then cast another spell to turn him into a toad, of which he was already largely one.

The Princess continued on her way, but a quick glance behind revealed the ENDM performing a U turn, and again, not being a candy arse, the Princess also turned her enchanted bicycle to face whatever confrontation might be awaiting her. With her magic potions at the ready the all powerful Princess and the ENDM faced each other from 50 metres like knights about to joust. The tension rose as the combatants approached each other, and with the ENDM guiding his carriage of evil towards her with its dragon eyes ablaze, Princess Lycra was wishing she was wearing her enchanted body armour.

As both the moment of truth and the carriage of evil arrived, the Princess quickly cast a silent spell of apology on the toady ENDM. Of course the ENDM, completely overwhelmed by the spell, slowed and pulled up adjacent to the Princess. Now fully under the control of the Princess's spell, the ENDM apologised for getting in the way of such a wondrous and magical being. The Princess, being benevolent and compassionate, as well as clever and gorgeous, (and modest), accepted the ENDM's apology while also providing some spiritual guidance on the respecting of cyclists.

The Princess and the now 'not so toady ENDM' parted on good terms with the ENDM now understanding the correct protocols of road sharing. This was an unusual but pleasing outcome for the Princess who had grown weary of the evilness she often encountered.
The Princess was much relieved that the incident had ended so well, and without the unpalatable emotional aftertaste that sometimes follows one for the rest of one's journey.

Princess Lycra continued on her enchanted journey through her magical kingdom, accompanied only by the whizzing sound of her tyres upon the road of cycling satisfaction, and eventually covered 114km nonstop without any further clashes with the forces of evil.

The End

Emma R. 12/02/2010

Raise those pedals high! Push down and read on.

There have been lots of articles and letters about cycling in the illustrious Sydney Morning Herald recently. I thought it might be worth it to have some of them on our blogspot.
* Just a bit of fun - let's laugh at ourselves!
This ones about the virtues of lycra. How on earth do the millions of cyclists in China and India cope without it?
* Premier Kristina shows us how! Now, I must find a Paul...?
Does the NSW Premier use saddle-bags or a trailer, both, neither? Find out here.
* Cycling - a non-sexist activity
Bicycle NSW spokeswoman in damage control over Richard Birdsey's sexist remarks. Did he really say that?
* Cyclists ride by the rules!
Rules, what rules?
* What bike's best for commuting? Hmmm ...
A disgruntled Bicycle NSW member gives Richard Birdsey her opinion.
* The debate (cyclist vs motorist) rages on!
Sydney motorists eat cyclists for breakfast.
* Are cycleways the answer?
Everyone seems to agree cycling is a great way to commute, but where to put them - road, cycleway, footpath, underground, The River Styx?
* Do motorists really hate bikes?
Article about overseas trends compared to Sydney.
* Why are cyclists so despised by motorists?
Sydney motorists hate bikes (again!) So much pent up rage.
* Compulsory Helmet Controversy
Now, this is an interesting one. I've heard the argument before - wearing helmets just encourages risk taking. What do you think?

Just a bit of fun - let's laugh at ourselves!

Wannabe superheroes riding our streets
Author: CHARLES PURCELL
SMH March 22, 2010 - 1:07PM

Sydneysiders seem to have plenty of gripes about cyclists. Yet amid all the hubbub one rather obvious criticism seems to have been missed by most people. That is, their insistence on wearing skin-tight lycra. Memo to the shaved leg brigade: lycra belongs on superheroes, not cyclists.

Millions of cyclists in China, India and elsewhere around the world seem to get around perfectly without a figure-accentuating costume that might do Batman proud (the George Clooney Batman, who had nipples welded onto his rubber costume).

Nor do many female cyclists fancy braving the roads in the type of material that Wonder Woman might wear on her crime-fighting adventures, the cut of which is as prone to burst at the seams as the attire of a British female bobsleigh rider.

That leaves us with the Western male and his fantasies of omnipotence.

''‘Do you think their mummies never bought them a Spider-Man outfit?'' quipped one colleague as she raised the issue.

If there’s one thing those plums of Paddington and the buttocks cheeks of Balmain have in common, it's the love of lycra.

Seeing these cycling superheroes on the road, one half expects them suddenly to burst out of their costumes with a roar like the Incredible Hulk. Or perhaps accidentally unleash Thor's mighty hammer during a wardrobe malfunction.

There's no sign of Captain America, but Captain Annandale can often be spotted dispensing two-wheeled justice on the streets, his stars and stripes (or meat and two veg) on display.

Like Superman, they imagine that they're faster than a locomotive (if they're in the right gear), flying through lights on their way to the planet Peloton, leaving lesser mortals in their wake. Like Superman's alter ego Clark Kent, they wear their superhero uniform underneath their clothes, itching for the chance to rip off their merchant banker suits when the call for heroism comes.

They're no friends of the Phantom, the Ghosts Who Walks, because only suckers walk when you can ride a Ridley Helium like Tour de France hero Cadel Evans.

Sometimes you'll see the Cadel clones with their arms almost stuck out to accept beverages from passing civilians as if they're in the Tour de France, ready to down them in one, crush them in their mighty hands and then continue to race through small mountainous French villages that uncannily resemble inner-city Sydney.

The only thing missing from the superhero fixation is the cape, which is no doubt ruled out because it would get caught in the gears.

''Mate,'' my cycling friend will say, aggressively poking me in the chest with a tyre pump, ''maaate. What have got against cyclists, you car fascist? It's a healthy hobby and good for the environment. The road isn't just for cars. That lyrca prevents our thighs from chafing over long distances and absorbs sweat. My thighs can breathe in lycra.''

''Maaaaate,'' I’ll reply back, poking him back with a tyre iron from the back of my 4WD, ''I’ve got nothing against cyclists. I just don't fancy the sight of someone's lycra-clad basket sidling up to my window at the lights first thing in the morning. Surely lycra only belongs on superheroes. Do you think you're a superhero? Are you Batman?’’

He'll subconsciously adjust to a heroic pose, a frustrated champion living in a world that both scorns and mistrusts him, his sacred mission misunderstood. Somewhere across the city Commissioner Gordon will be shining the Bike Light into the sky, the silhouette of a Malvern Star appearing in the clouds, to alert him that the Joker is on the loose again.

''Batman was a DRIVER," he'll reply scornfully. "He should’ve traded the Batmobile for a Batcycle." He'll then look at my driver's physique scornfully. "And it wouldn’t hurt you to get on a bike and ride there,'' he'll add, with a final vicious blow to my stomach with the pump.

''But do you have to look like one of the backing dancers for Lady Gaga? Or Olivia Newton-John in the '80s?''

He'll pause for a long time, then say: ''Yes. Yes, we do, Mr Fat Man. Did I also tell you my buttocks are padded?''

I'm all for a city full of cyclists. But for god's sake, go and put some proper pants on. You're not Batman.

Charles Purcell is a Sydney Morning Herald senior writer.

Noughtie Cyclists

I came across this in the SMH. Thought it might amuse some. What about 6. The Trikies?

Prance Armstrong and Sydney's two-wheeled tribes
From: SMH January 2, 2010 For discussion only and non-profit use
Author: Matt Buchanan (SMH writer)
As cycling surges in popularity, a cursory look reveals the throng on two wheels is made up of several distinct tribes, writes Matt Buchanan.

IT is only now, over the summer holidays, as recreational riders merge with everyday riders into one whirring multicoloured throng, that you can really see how great a trend cycling became in the Noughties.

Throughout the decade Australians bought more bikes than cars. We now own about 1.4 million more bikes, compared with 1 million of their fossil-fuelled counterparts.

The number of people who chose cycling as their method of commuting boomed - by 2016, 5 per cent of all journeys to work are expected to be by bicycle, up from 0.8 per cent in 2006.

In November the NSW Government reacted to the numbers and the broad rise in community awareness of the environmental, health and practical benefits of pedal power by including a bike plan in its transport blueprint.

True, with this has come a periodic fist-shaking antagonism between the 9 to 30-kilogram bike and the two-tonne sedan or hatch - not to mention the 20-tonne truck.

Cyclists will tell you that cars collectively react to their entry onto the road just as antibodies do to pathogen in the bloodstream: by surrounding, subduing and destroying it. To which some motorists will say: Well - yes. Quite right, too.

Both groups dream of the safe segregation that widespread cycle paths would bring. But then the chairman of Bicycle NSW, Alex Unwin, thinks the rapid growth of cycling is precisely what will bring more cycle paths.

''We have reached a fundamental turning point,'' he said. ''Ten years ago bike riding was a specialist activity. Now bike riding is a mainstream activity. Increasingly, government understands that this is a good thing. The City of Sydney has put a lot of money into specialised bike infrastructure and now the State Government is coming into line [with the bike plan], and there's now a national cycling strategy being reworked this year.''

Mr Unwin says there are three reasons for cycling's growth: it is healthy, it is environmentally responsible and it is better to whizz through traffic than sit in it.

''The big growth has come because people who live within five to 10 kilometres from work see it as a smart, quick way to get there because the city is so congested,'' Mr Unwin said. He sees it getting safer too. ''As more people get riding, you get an increased level of awareness … and you get more infrastructure … which make things safer and encourages others to ride bikes.''

1. The Leg Shavers (or Prance Armstrongs)
These near-frictionless obsessives have calves as sleek and hard as skittles and live in a Tour de France of their own minds, racing around city roads, freeways and country carriageways alike in whirring pelotons, stopping only to sip lattes en masse in Darlinghurst cafes, radiant in their eye-scorching yellow Peugeot Spandex and lycra. At Tour time some install stationary bikes in front of their TV and follow the le pack from les Pyrenees to Paris - while still in Pyrmont. Some couriers belong to this group.

2. The ''Fixies'' (or the Nutters)
This group ride fixed-drive bicycles inspired by those used in velodrome racing. Fixed-drive means one single gear and - quite seriously - often no conventional brakes. These oft-bearded loonies aim to achieve a Zen state by anticipating all obstacles and, in regard to traffic lights, laughingly refer to themselves as colour blind. Should stopping become a (reluctant) necessity, Fixies will stop by raising their rear tyre in a sort of agitated and utterly un-Zen-like bunny hop, and then go about jackhammering the road with their front tyre. Like couriers - who make up much of their number - they will, if stopped for more than a moment, twist themselves and their bikes into all sorts of figure-eights just to avoid putting a foot on the road in the apparent belief that the road is suddenly not a road but a nasty snapping shark.

3. The Road Worriers (or the A-to-Beavers)
A diffuse group of everyday commuters riding all manner of pushie, from gleaming drop-handle racer to creaking old faithful. They are motivated to pedal to work for health/economic/green reasons or because of a disillusionment with the public transport system or, just as often, out of a bloodyminded, fist-shaking desire to stick it to what they perceive to be Sydney's casually murderous motorists. Characterised by sensible fluoro safety gear, backpacks for their work clothes and the slightly self-conscious way they wear their tight black stretchy shorts - and, oh, yes, for meandering with sarcastic slowness in the middle of freeway lanes just to show that ''it's my lane too, mate''.

4. The Basket Cases
These homely riders are distinguished by their utilitarian approach. They proceed to and from the corner grocer on a sensible, older-style bicycle with raised handlebars the frame of which is bulked up with bags, baskets and babies. They wear anoraks, signal ostentatiously, know how to affix a pannier, and can be recognised by the ''One car less!'' sticker on their quivering mudguards.

5. The Flat Tyros
Australians own more bikes than cars, and this very large group - who intend to ride to work/shop/end of their driveway but never do - is one of the principal reasons why. Usually found looking wistfully (or resentfully) at cyclists from cars and buses. (A subset here is the Spin Class: people who dress up in all the gear and ride on a stationary bike at the gym in front of MTV).