Night of the ninja cyclist
Dark shape in the middle distance, faintly illuminated by sodium streetlight. Its large, moving slowly and faintly meandering from left to right. I get closer. The car headlights creep up the rear and start to hit something recognisable. At last. Something. Brain rapidly decodes visual cues. Big, dark, chunky. A bear? No. This is Cardiff, not Calgary. I’m closer now. Large dark jacket. Big Russian style tank hat. Two wheels, no lights and wait for it…….a set of cans that could happily grace any mixing desk from Berlin to Tokyo. Dark and unidentifiable to other road users, isolated and deaf to traffic. Bravo. This must be some new urban adventure sport. Or maybe just idiocy.
It’s not always the dogs that are ninja you know. This was one of those rare occasions when I was driving my car in lieu of using my bike. And for all my staunch defence of cyclists rights, here’s one doing the rest of us no favours at all, whilst putting himself and others in harms way (no lights, dark clothes, camouflage hat and MASSIVE HEADPHONES. sheesh). Be safe, be seen and all that.
No need to go all neon on us (unless that’s your thing). Sensible lights and reflective bits will suffice. Cycle art courtesy via Kitesurf bike rambling.