Menace to society

Perhaps it's something to do with the longer, lighter evenings, but I've witnessed a spate of accidents involving mopeds recently -- or rather, the aftermath of them. There you are, cycling up to a junction, when you realize the traffic's not moving, a car is parked at an odd angle, and a bunch of people are standing around chatting. Moving carefully past, you spot a moped on its side and, if you're unlucky, a thin trickle of blood. Not nice. But also not particularly surprising. As in most major cities, the moped drivers here are maniacs -- weaving in and out of traffic, hopping up onto cycle lanes to cut up mothers with 3 kids on their (push)bikes, before diving back in front of lorries and up into tram lanes, and taking corners with their knees near to the ground, as if they're Barry Sheen (does that date me?). The worst accident I saw happened as a rider undertook a car, cutting close to its side and not realizing that it was slowing down to turn left -- BAM! Straight into the side mirror he went and onto the floor. Impressively, he sat up and started cursing the driver, failing as always to recognize his own stupidity.

The professional takeout delivery guys (and yes, it's always men) have a large box on the back and have removed their mufflers (or is it spoilers?) so that their customers can tell from 3 streets away that their food is en route -- although I don't get why they're in such a hurry, given that no delivery places here offer guarantees of "Your food in 30 minutes, or your money back!" Far more common is the hour-long wait with subsequent follow-up phone call to establish that they've forgotten to take your order/couldn't hear your order because of the loud radio they had on in the background/have substituted meat for tofu in the sate.

Where was I?

If they're not delivery drivers, they are usually young men with a mate on the back -- neither of them wearing helmets and the passenger pumping his arms in the air and shouting at the girls they pass. I doubt they'll have much luck, although probably a little more than the oafish 20-year-olds who tool around on their mini-bikes, knees up around their ears as they peddle, lollipop and iPods plugged in. You don't look like you're on a boulevard in Venice Beach, moron; you look like an overgrown toddler with bumfluff! Gosh, I didn't realize that I disliked them so much. At least they're just irritating, rather than life-threatening.