According to one Mujib Lexy Gallagher the unbreakable code of cycling is thus;
1. Thou shalt not be overtaken.
2. Though shalt not stop.
Now the application of such rules has some all too easily demonstrable problems for the budding cyclists of Beijing, but one must bear in mind that the progenitor of the code was prone to late night inebriated adventures aboard his own rusty steed. The favourite was a real life version of road rash two, ah yes the fine console that was the Sega Mega Drive, in which one would utilise the punch function to assault unwary members of the public. All were at risk, including pedestrians, fellow cyclists and unfortunate cabbies that kept themselves awake by rolling their windows down. At most risk was our fearless protagonist himself, who was want of steerage when flailing at the god fearing people of edinburgh and often ended up regretting that he had not as intended bought one for the ditch. Sympathy however is is a bit like penny chews; coming in mixed bags as they do.
The code does have some uses however for Beijingers wishing to save a few pennies and shed a few pounds by selecting man's most noble mode of conveyance. Having rejected the human but halitotic air conditioning of the bus system and the luxurious but loping taxis, and feared that one might leave one's head in a water melonesque state to be scraped off the streat by BJ's finest streat cleaners after a night on the soup and scooter, one must as one moustachioed marmite motorway marhsall once sang "get on one's bike and ride".
When cycling, the brakes, like shite, would ideally remain untouched. Lights should be considered as indications of the state of traffic rather than instructions, and one should never hesitate in enlisting the help of a few comrades to stop traffic for the sake of the highly important business cyclists must attend to (outweighing of course the wants and needs of the ponce in the black audi with his thumb cellotaped to his horn).
Not matter how audacious one feels one's cycling is, fear not for it has all been done before by an eighty year old on a rickshaw with her husband on the back coughing up love for the game.
1. Thou shalt not be overtaken.
2. Though shalt not stop.
Now the application of such rules has some all too easily demonstrable problems for the budding cyclists of Beijing, but one must bear in mind that the progenitor of the code was prone to late night inebriated adventures aboard his own rusty steed. The favourite was a real life version of road rash two, ah yes the fine console that was the Sega Mega Drive, in which one would utilise the punch function to assault unwary members of the public. All were at risk, including pedestrians, fellow cyclists and unfortunate cabbies that kept themselves awake by rolling their windows down. At most risk was our fearless protagonist himself, who was want of steerage when flailing at the god fearing people of edinburgh and often ended up regretting that he had not as intended bought one for the ditch. Sympathy however is is a bit like penny chews; coming in mixed bags as they do.
The code does have some uses however for Beijingers wishing to save a few pennies and shed a few pounds by selecting man's most noble mode of conveyance. Having rejected the human but halitotic air conditioning of the bus system and the luxurious but loping taxis, and feared that one might leave one's head in a water melonesque state to be scraped off the streat by BJ's finest streat cleaners after a night on the soup and scooter, one must as one moustachioed marmite motorway marhsall once sang "get on one's bike and ride".
When cycling, the brakes, like shite, would ideally remain untouched. Lights should be considered as indications of the state of traffic rather than instructions, and one should never hesitate in enlisting the help of a few comrades to stop traffic for the sake of the highly important business cyclists must attend to (outweighing of course the wants and needs of the ponce in the black audi with his thumb cellotaped to his horn).
Not matter how audacious one feels one's cycling is, fear not for it has all been done before by an eighty year old on a rickshaw with her husband on the back coughing up love for the game.
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