On Friday evening, after two post-work pints, I cycled home from Manchester to my home in Salford, as I do most evenings. The weather, like most evenings, was shit; cold and wet - neither of which I was particularly dressed for, but it’s a relatively short ride and dry clothes and a curry awaited me.

It was less than 1/2 a mile from my home, one left turn away from my road, that my ‘ordeal’ happened. Cycling down the hill, out of the door zone or away from the slippery mulch in the gutters. The first cause for alarm was a car that had sped up dangerously close behind me, and was now aggressively beeping it’s horn at me. At this point, we’re going downhill on a residential street and I’m probably doing 15-20mph in the wet. I had nowhere to go to avoid the car (a nervous lifesaver glance identified a new white Audi A3) so I carried on until there was space to pass.

Read More