Ego-popping

[Mister Paul]

It was a beautiful machine. A blue F-type coupe. Private plate, but it looked brand new. I rolled up alongside it at the lights. Rule 1 is don't let them know you've even acknowledged them. So without moving my head, out of the corner of my eye I watched him sidle up a little further, as close to the line as he can thus reducing any advantage I might have, announcing that he was going to show this little plastic twist-and-go how much of a man he was.

We sat, watching the lights. The 4-way sequence takes a while, but I've learned it. Before us is about 100m of 2-lane, followed by a filter into one. The Jag burbled away.

Amber. He floors it. I do the full twist. For about 10m I'm quicker, but he's catching me. The car is burbling and popping as he comes alongside, desperate to see me cry as he vanishes into the distance. 30mph shows, and I drop off the throttle. He's in front of me but only just, so I settle behind. Like me, he's not one for blasting over the limit, so he sits there, unable to do anything about the little black SH300 in his mirror.

The next roundabout. Negotiated properly, as soon as he gets off it he floors it again, only to 30 where he settles again. But he's not been able to shake me off. So he suffers the little scoot behind, on his offside, threateningly in an overtaking position.

The third roundabout leads onto an NSL single carriageway. Not wide enough for cars to overtake without going into the oncoming lane, but plenty of room for a 2-wheeler to do so. In rush hour most cars stay or pull over to the left to let bikes past. Mr Jag floors it again, but still can't break the elastic that's holding us together. All the time, that lovely pop and burble of the 3 litre supercharged v6 and performance exhaust. I resume my position to his offside and behind, filling his door mirror. He's stuck behind a van doing about 50-55, so when the opportunity comes and I'm sure he's not going to try a silly overtake I roll the throttle back a little and slowly slide past him. I can't resist giving him a friendly wave.

My job's done, and I have no intention of doing anything dangerous so I settle down to 60mph. The road widens to two lanes out of town and I can see him itching to get a point back. Don't they just hate it when they pass you, a nonchalant geeky commuter with a tall screen and Termoscud pretending that they've forgotten about them? He passes me and makes his way to the motorway junction, getting there before me. He decides to take the wrong lane for his exit (as I found out when the lights changed) to get as near to the front as possible. But he's still got two cars in front of him so I coast up to the front, passing him on his left. I don't want him thinking that this is an angry man-show, so I stop, turn, point at his car and give him an approving thumbs up. His head doesn't move. Staring resolutely ahead. Can't show any sign of defeat. All of his hard-earned ego gone. Diluted away by a bearded, bald, middle-aged man on a moped. £66,000, beaten by a scoot costing Just over £4k. All within the legal limits.

I love this scooter.

[springer1]

Very Nice !!

[gn2]

Have done similar to McLarens, Bentleys, Lambos, Porsches, Ferraris, Astons, you name it a scooter can leave any of them behind in city traffic.

[you you]

It was a beautiful machine. A blue F-type coupe. Private plate, but it looked brand new. I rolled up alongside it at the lights. Rule 1 is don't let them know you've even acknowledged them. So without moving my head, out of the corner of my eye I watched him sidle up a little further, as close to the line as he can thus reducing any advantage I might have, announcing that he was going to show this little plastic twist-and-go how much of a man he was.

We sat, watching the lights. The 4-way sequence takes a while, but I've learned it. Before us is about 100m of 2-lane, followed by a filter into one. The Jag burbled away.

Amber. He floors it. I do the full twist. For about 10m I'm quicker, but he's catching me. The car is burbling and popping as he comes alongside, desperate to see me cry as he vanishes into the distance. 30mph shows, and I drop off the throttle. He's in front of me but only just, so I settle behind. Like me, he's not one for blasting over the limit, so he sits there, unable to do anything about the little black SH300 in his mirror.

The next roundabout. Negotiated properly, as soon as he gets off it he floors it again, only to 30 where he settles again. But he's not been able to shake me off. So he suffers the little scoot behind, on his offside, threateningly in an overtaking position.

The third roundabout leads onto an NSL single carriageway. Not wide enough for cars to overtake without going into the oncoming lane, but plenty of room for a 2-wheeler to do so. In rush hour most cars stay or pull over to the left to let bikes past. Mr Jag floors it again, but still can't break the elastic that's holding us together. All the time, that lovely pop and burble of the 3 litre supercharged v6 and performance exhaust. I resume my position to his offside and behind, filling his door mirror. He's stuck behind a van doing about 50-55, so when the opportunity comes and I'm sure he's not going to try a silly overtake I roll the throttle back a little and slowly slide past him. I can't resist giving him a friendly wave.

My job's done, and I have no intention of doing anything dangerous so I settle down to 60mph. The road widens to two lanes out of town and I can see him itching to get a point back. Don't they just hate it when they pass you, a nonchalant geeky commuter with a tall screen and Termoscud pretending that they've forgotten about them? He passes me and makes his way to the motorway junction, getting there before me. He decides to take the wrong lane for his exit (as I found out when the lights changed) to get as near to the front as possible. But he's still got two cars in front of him so I coast up to the front, passing him on his left. I don't want him thinking that this is an angry man-show, so I stop, turn, point at his car and give him an approving thumbs up. His head doesn't move. Staring resolutely ahead. Can't show any sign of defeat. All of his hard-earned ego gone. Diluted away by a bearded, bald, middle-aged man on a moped. £66,000, beaten by a scoot costing Just over £4k. All within the legal limits.

I love this scooter.

I'll have the Jag then...

[horobags]

love it.

[Ian Daly]

Hi Mr Paul

I can get on board with that, they really do surprise other road users

Cheers

Ian

[you you]

So funny

[Spaguar]

What a nice way to start the office day with a smile...

[lillypinkjenny]

All of his hard-earned ego gone. Diluted away by a bearded, bald, middle-aged man on a moped.

If you can believe me, it's just as satisfying doing it as a girl especially with a flip up helmet.

I can flip-up, smile, and the look of deflation gets even more pronounced.

[Ian Daly]

All of his hard-earned ego gone. Diluted away by a bearded, bald, middle-aged man on a moped.

If you can believe me, it's just as satisfying doing it as a girl especially with a flip up helmet.

I can flip-up, smile, and the look of deflation gets even more pronounced.

Hi Jenny

I can see that too, the crashing feeling of being 'kippered up" by a scoot is one thing, but by a girl on a scoot, I know some Porsche/Audi drivers that would call it a day after that

Ian

[lillypinkjenny]

All of his hard-earned ego gone. Diluted away by a bearded, bald, middle-aged man on a moped.

If you can believe me, it's just as satisfying doing it as a girl especially with a flip up helmet.

I can flip-up, smile, and the look of deflation gets even more pronounced.

Hi Jenny

I can see that too, the crashing feeling of being 'kippered up" by a scoot is one thing, but by a girl on a scoot, I know some Porsche/Audi drivers that would call it a day after that

Ian

Exactly. Gender shouldn't matter one iota, but in this case ... it does!

(It's Lilly by the way )