Franklin’s Cyclecraft: An Abusive Relationship | karlmccracken

I’ve had a crappy summer on the roads. Don’t get me wrong - the weather’s been great, and I’ve had some lovely rides, and I’ve got some amazing memories.
No. It’s the idiots I have to share the road with who are the problem.
I’ve lost count of the number of deliberately intimidatory close passes I’ve suffered, blasts of horns, times I’ve been tailgated, and had incomprehensible (yet plainly vitriol-laced) yells from passing drivers. I’ve had drivers try overtaking me when I’ve been stationary in a queue of traffic (really: just what imaginary piece of unoccupied road were you trying to get into?), another brake-test me, and one drive his car at me and Daughter before getting out to tell me that he’d be waiting round the corner out of CCTV view to give me a good kicking. That’s him, below - charming fellow. Rather than take him up on his offer, I called the police.
It’s been really, really shit.
It got so bad in fact that I even had a colleague who’s a cycle instructor take me out on the road to assess my riding - if I was the common factor in these acts of aggression, then maybe I was the one at fault?