Cycling to Tesco yesterday on my way to Edinburgh* in the just-about-dark, I approached the roundabout in the retail park somewhat warily – Bigtown drivers take a somewhat freestyle approach to roundabouts generally, and this one is particularly random. I was turning right, there was a car approaching slowly from my left, so I continued on round the roundabout somewhat warily, which was fortunate because the car kept on coming and kept on coming even as I shouted ‘hey’ and waved my arms about and then (having stopped to let it go past as that was obviously what it was going to do) did a big ‘what the hell are you doing?’ gesture – all with not a flicker of awareness from the driver.
The car then continued on at approximately 10mph – it was all I could do not to overtake it – and parked right outside Tesco, where I considered knocking on the window but I didn’t fancy a confrontation so I just continued on and locked up the bike. And then, as I was walking to the entrance, I saw the driver still getting out of the car and I realised he must be about 90.
Now I know that the right answer is that if he drives like that, he doesn’t belong on the road and that if he didn’t hit me (and at the speed he was driving, he was never going to hit me) he might hit a child, but I also know that his car is very likely his independence. And in fairness, I was on my Brompton with the not brilliant lights and in ninja mode (black jacket & trousers) so I could have done a bit more to help a driver pick me out in a complex and poorly lit environment – if it had happened when I’d been on my big bike with the dynamo front light I’d have been less forgiving. So I didn’t say anything. In a perfect (Dutch) world, he wouldn’t need to drive, he’d still be cycling (there are plenty of people in the area still riding their bikes well into their 80s and beyond but they’re a breed apart). But this is not a perfect world.
However after this, and a close squeeeeeeze by a taxi on Princess Street yesterday evening, and then almost walking into a Deliveroo rider with no lights as I crossed the street on foot (I don’t like to play on the tram tracks), I have decided to upgrade the Brompton lights and add a bit of reflective material to my winter cycling outfit. I doubt it would have made a blind bit of difference to either incident, but it would have allowed me to deploy a lot more self-righteous indignation afterwards.
* ‘Where is it you’re going again?’ the other half asked me yesterday morning. Edinburgh, as it happens. Then back again and then Dundee in our bid to meet all the cycling women of Scotland.