Friday 28th March

Let me first state that I am not a car-driver or a cyclist, simply a mere pedestrian, but maybe that slower more pedestrian style of transport in some ways cools the blood.  Perhaps it gives you a bit more time for reflection, which those in faster modes of transport do not have.  And car-drivers are possibly the worst, and the very worst of them are owners of sports cars, who seem to think that if they are not gunning the engine to its maximum, if their foot is not pressing the accelerator to the floor, if they are not leaving every other road user in their wake, they are not living up to the image and maybe the expense of the vehicle they are in.

Last night, emerging from Canary Wharf Jubilee Line I prepared to cross the one road between me and the D7 bus-stop.  Being a good boy I took the pedestrian crossing rather than a slightly shorter route.  As I approached the orange beacon-ed zebra crossing I saw that the lights were solid green though no other pedestrians happened to be crossing at that moment.  I still looked both ways (old habits die hard) and was about to step across when I saw a bright red sports car approaching at rather a fast speed.  A bit wary I waited for the driver to slow down and stop.  He did, but not quite, he was still moving, slowly I will admit but not absolutely stopped.  His bonnet was inching over the black and white road markings and the vehicle was still moving.  He, the driver, was hunched over the tiny steering wheel and glaring at me.  I started across the crossing watching him carefully, and yes he continued moving, now almost half his vehicle was on the crossing, the front wheels certainly over the markings.  I stopped and pointed at the still green man showing on my light.

This was obviously too much for him.  Both hands left the wheel and he gave me the double “V” sign and screamed “Fuck Off” which I heard quite clearly.  I was tempted to continue into his path and simply stand there, arms open and tempting him to do his worst, but some survival instinct kicked in and I stepped back onto the pavement.  Immediately he roared off as fast as his 0-60 acceleration would carry him.

He was obviously in the right.  Red lights do not apply to him.  He works in Canary Wharf, he has a bright red sports car, he is one of those making millions in Finance, why on earth would anyone assume that the rules should apply to him.