I had an argument with a motorist and we ended it on good terms - is this the future?

As a cyclist in the UK it is easy to think you’re in the middle of a culture war. It is inescapable on social media, in newspapers - just last week, The Times published a piece by a columnist essentially saying bike theft was good - and often on the roads.

However, in reality, the culture war is a myth, concocted in the opinion pages of the tabloids, something your average reactionary politician can say to garner a few cheers. We are all just people, sharing the crumbling roads, and while a lot more could be done to make cycling safer and make cyclists feel safer, there should not necessarily be a cyclist vs driver dichotomy. In reality, the battle is between good road users and bad ones, and they can come in lycra as well as behind the wheel - although there is a dramatic difference in how much damage both of these users can do.

It is a struggle, a mental exercise, to head out on the roads while not thinking that every motorist and driver should be something to be worthy of your ire, and it’s not something that I always succeed at. As cyclists, we’re conditioned to be wary of cars, vans and trucks, and the fear of an incident can all too easily boil into rage.

Adam Becket

News editor at Cycling Weekly, Adam brings his weekly opinion on the goings on at the upper echelons of our sport. This piece is part of The Leadout, a newsletter series from Cycling Weekly and Cyclingnews. To get this in your inbox, subscribe here. As ever, email adam.becket@futurenet.com - should you wish to add anything, or suggest a topic.

This was the base for an interaction with a motorist I had while out on a bike ride a couple of weekends ago. To set the scene, I was riding with a small group on a typically lumpy route out of Bristol, which includes one particularly savage bump. The Hinton climb is just over a kilometre at 7.4%, but there are ramps up to 16% and it seemingly doesn’t stop. It is also a sunken, narrow lane, impossible to overtake on. If you’re a car behind a group of cyclists on the hill, it is simply a case of waiting your turn for a couple of minutes.

Waiting their turn was not what the lead car of three stuck behind us did, with constant revving, aborted attempts to get around, and general impatience; it is exactly the kind of thing that makes you insecure as a cyclist on a road like this. There’s nowhere to go, you can’t stop, and there’s no quick way to make things easier for the drivers behind. It also makes you ask ‘what will they do?’ - is the car going to misjudge a gap and cause a crash? It’s not impossible.

Eventually, after what seemed like 10 minutes, but was probably three, the driver spotted an opportunity and came round us, and was followed by the second car of three. The third vehicle, a van, came round us and beeped as it did so. It seemed an act of aggression, especially after such a nervous time on the hill, and my friend fought fire with fire, releasing a volley of expletives into the February air.

That would usually be it - we’ve all been there a million times. We weren’t even completely at the top of the hill yet, so we settled back into the climb. The van driver - and its passenger - had other ideas though, coming to a halt in front of us, with the male passenger climbing out.

Now, I would usually preach ignoring this kind of thing. What good could come of it? But for some reason, and potentially just because I needed a break from the climb, I put my foot down and turned to face my opposition. The man in question wanted to know why he - and his wife, the driver - had received such a furious response. Out of breath, I tried to explain how vulnerable we, as cyclists, feel in the face of traffic, especially in a situation like we had on the hill, where we didn’t know what was going to happen. Something like a beep, an accidental close pass, or a confusing move can cause all of that anxiety to spill out, to boil over.

At least that’s what I think I said, anyway. He said he didn’t know why his wife had beeped, and he seemed to understand my point of view. Perhaps it was because I looked so pathetic, in my early-season state of fitness and out of breath, or perhaps it was because I was so erudite and convincing. Either way, it didn’t descend into further anger, and I really think I got my point across that day. He even offered to give me a push start. The van departed, with a friendlier beep and a wave, and I caught up with my friends, who couldn’t believe that I had decided to engage.

If there is a lesson from this, it is that there is no us vs them. It is possible many people behind the wheel simply don’t understand what it is like to be a cyclist, so give them some slack. When people overreact to you riding two abreast, or riding in primary position, or just holding them up a bit, kill them with kindness, not with anger. We are on the side of the righteous, after all.

This piece is part of The Leadout, the offering of newsletters from Cycling Weekly and Cyclingnews. To get this in your inbox, subscribe here.

If you want to get in touch with Adam, email adam.becket@futurenet.com, or comment below.