Ihe “vélotaf”, a practice which consists of going to work by bicycle, has given birth to a particular aesthetic: GoPro camera often mounted on the helmet, the followers of this ecological means of transport document their daily journeys manner of a thriller. In the role of the omnipresent threat: the car, a metal monster that devours the asphalt like a great predator, without regard for emerging mobility.
In this video, posted on Twitter on April 19 by @vélotaflyon, we witness a fairly banal scene, of which there are countless variations on social networks: wishing to turn right, a red car falls back on the bus lane which also acts as a cycle path and masterfully cuts through the path of a “velotafeuse”, as if it were a subordinate rolling species.
A pure behavior of road domination which gives rise, as is often the case, to a tense exchange. When the cyclist asks the motorist if he finds this ” normal “he retorts that he has put on his turn signal and adds: “You piss me off! » It looks like an annoyed lion to whom a gazelle would suddenly come to contest its hegemony on the savannah. In the background, resounds the hoarse lament of Michel Sardou, who, invited in “8:30 p.m. on Saturday” six months ago, on France 2, exposed, without being contradicted, his cold hatred of the cyclist, who, it is necessary Admit it, sometimes trample the precepts of the highway code: “They run all the red lights; the next one I do myself. » In 2022, 244 people were killed on a bicycle, a figure up 30% compared to 2019.
“Park somewhere else shitbag!” »
Of course, not all of them are bike-to-work-sleep enthusiasts who fell on the field of honor while whistling Connemara Lakes. But the “bike rider”, by the daily nature of his practice, is more than anyone else confronted with the worst behaviors of the asphalt, often grouped under the hashtag #violencesmotorisés: parking on cycle paths (“yes, but it’s just for a minute”, usually argues the one who has not found the strength to propel himself to the neighboring car park); failure to respect bicycle locks, secure spaces located upstream of traffic lights; unexpected opening of the doors; inopportune honks. And what about the chronic non-respect of the 1 meter distance in town (1.50 meters outside urban areas), compulsory when overtaking? Once coupled to its thermal engine, the human sometimes becomes the alter ego of a pitiful metro scrubber, excited by the fact of evolving closer to its prey, imposing its hot breath ballasted with particles.
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