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05-18-01, 06:17 AM
I knew an old and fearless Breton, sort of Popeye with a french twist, hero of the second world war, drinker of Calvados Brandy, smoker of Gitanes, feckless chaser of skirts, and unstoppable cyclist... He has since passed away, of rather mundane causes... advanced age being the major culprit.
He once gave me this advice concerning cycling in traffic:
"You are an unarmed spotter aircraft, deep in enemy territory. The views are beautiful, the sun and wind are invigorating, but beware...
All these (cars) are enemy fighter planes... they stalk your tail, they lurk in driveways and alleys, their sole mission is to prevent you from reaching your destination. They would delight in painting your silhouette on their engine cowling, after the kill.
These (trucks, busses, poids-lourds) are enemy bombers. They are so heavily armed, they can kill you without any effort, and will do so for sport.
Your mission is to reach your target. You must avoid the enemy using only your wits. You must know when to assert yourself, and when to run away....
... and you cannot shoot back."
If nothing else, he made me an extremely paranoid cyclist.
Thirty years later, I am still ever on the alert for bogeys...
...Hmmmmm.... yellow sedan, six o'clock and closing fast. Is he lining up for a kill shot? Can I roll out? Zoommmm, he goes past. Another miss for our hero. I begin to see broken bottles and roadside debris as AK-AK. The streetlamps lining the drive to my office park are obviously runway lights. Safely back on the ground, I taxi my plane to its hangar.... well, the PBX room in my building... and go to share a cup o'joe with (hopefully) friendly bomber crews.
Many has been the day that I wished I'd worn a leather helmet and a white silk scarf for my "dawn patrols."
Also on my wish list are twin handlebar-mounted .50cal machine guns. I would not mind the extra weight, honest.
He once gave me this advice concerning cycling in traffic:
"You are an unarmed spotter aircraft, deep in enemy territory. The views are beautiful, the sun and wind are invigorating, but beware...
All these (cars) are enemy fighter planes... they stalk your tail, they lurk in driveways and alleys, their sole mission is to prevent you from reaching your destination. They would delight in painting your silhouette on their engine cowling, after the kill.
These (trucks, busses, poids-lourds) are enemy bombers. They are so heavily armed, they can kill you without any effort, and will do so for sport.
Your mission is to reach your target. You must avoid the enemy using only your wits. You must know when to assert yourself, and when to run away....
... and you cannot shoot back."
If nothing else, he made me an extremely paranoid cyclist.
Thirty years later, I am still ever on the alert for bogeys...
...Hmmmmm.... yellow sedan, six o'clock and closing fast. Is he lining up for a kill shot? Can I roll out? Zoommmm, he goes past. Another miss for our hero. I begin to see broken bottles and roadside debris as AK-AK. The streetlamps lining the drive to my office park are obviously runway lights. Safely back on the ground, I taxi my plane to its hangar.... well, the PBX room in my building... and go to share a cup o'joe with (hopefully) friendly bomber crews.
Many has been the day that I wished I'd worn a leather helmet and a white silk scarf for my "dawn patrols."
Also on my wish list are twin handlebar-mounted .50cal machine guns. I would not mind the extra weight, honest.