There are few things less pleasant than cycling behind an open top car if the reek of aftershave/scent is overpowering and, frankly, repellent. One's sense of good karma is further tested when the driver of said convertible is also ... how shall I put it ... rather limited in driving ability. This morning, a very nicely turned out gent in those 70's shades we know and love was ambling along in front of me, clearly in some sort of reverie and oblivious to any of the rules which us mere mortals worry and fret about throughout our journeys.
Sure enough, just as I'm thinking I might have to overtake the highly powered Merc, a garbage truck comes a little bit unexpectedly out of a side road. The Merc driver doesn't actually seem to know how to use his steering wheel, and comes within a whisker of developing an intimate friendship with the side of the truck. The garbage truck driver delivers the required abuse (rather mild in fact, involving something about actually looking through those glasses) and the Merc driver decides, just for good measure, to turn left down a side road without indicating.
Moral of the story: avoid getting too close to drivers who you can smell.
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