I thought we would be buddies, but they are either victims or predators.

In my pre-cycling days I imagnied every other cyclist I saw would wave 'hello'.

We would unite as one against the traffic and live in a big chocolcate house.

My brother rides in London and said there is some genuine cameraderie between the numerous riders on his route.

But I rarely bump into people.

Not once in eight weeks have I pulled up alongside one at the lights.

I only ever see them in distance, where they instantly become targets to ridden down, or when they appear from nowhere and glide past me with an ease that makes me mad.

I've sort of had a couple of races, too.

About a week ago an older guy was mashing the pedals of his mountain bike through Penketh towards Warrington.

I eventually caught him after a big effort, and tried to kick away with a flourish.

Problem was, he went back past me at Crosfields roundabout, even spitting as he went, partly from tiredness, partly from some primitive gesture of contempt.

I wouldn't mind but his bike was 'British Eagle'.

It sounds like the equivalent of those British Knights trainers from the 80s, i.e.cack.

In fact, the only cyclists I love to see are the odd pack of club riders on racing bikes.

I want to shout: "Please Sir! Can I join your gang!"

But until I can outpace a 50-year-old in a bobble hat on a bike made of lead, I should know my place - and also learn to love other cyclists, and not see them as rivals, becuase it's not the speed you ride, but the fact you ride at all.