Personal one: the bit of my commute that goes through the Country Park and then across the *ahem* "poorer" estate won't be full of blokes walking about with no shirts, can of cheap strong lager clutched in paw, strutting about looking like they've got a roll of carpet under each arm (some trick whilst holding the lager), with one of those short dogs that's got a hugely wide chest and walks like Spike from Tom and Jerry legging it about somewhere nearby completely out of control.
If it snows, it's like a magical winter fairy wonder land in the woods on the last stretch before I try to kill myself by hurling me and the bike down the quiet (ungritted) lane into the village. Actually, no, Mrs-LC, I didn't get off and push!!! Ha ha.
