All over the front page, already

I acquired my first London car just before Christmas and last night I experienced my first incidence of road rage in it. Some guy was crawling along Gray’s Inn Road, so I overtook him. Wrong move. This affront to his masculinity immediately prompted him to chase me across London with his high beams on, blasting his horn. Whatever. Why does he care if I overtook him while he was kerb–crawling? I am quite convinced that some people wake up in an angrier state than I have ever been in, at my most angry. Incidentally, this illustrates one of the benefits of a fast motorcycle (my previous mode of transport) in town — if you decide to overtake someone, you waste them so comprehensively that by the time they realise you’ve gone by, it’s too late for retaliation. Downside is you get wet.