This is lifted out of the 'drafting etiquette' so as not to completely threadjack that topic but there has been some discussion about the differences between cycling in cities and in the country, about how people talk to each other and so on in the country whilst townies just glare at you before taking your scalp back to their trophy cabinet. The whole side issue about people sitting off your back wheel and grinning maniacally at you when you you look back is, frankly, quite disturbing and I'll be ignoring that for the purposes of this post.
The whole rural vs city thing is not so much about friendliness, it's about practicality.
I can imagine that when you country folk walk out of your front door, which is surrounded by a trellis of sweet smelling roses and then saunter up through the herbaceous border to your white picket gate, you wave cheerily at the milkman before heading off out to work. Go round to the barn, pat Dobbin on the head and retrieve the bike from the hay before heading out onto the road for the daily grind. Oh No! A heavy rush hour today - Mrs Gingerbread and Fred-the-Postman are both on the village green at the same time. No matter, a friendly wave and cheery "Hello!" before you're on your way once more without too much delay. The ducks quack a companionable greeting as you spray them with water crossing the ford next to the village pond. Birds are singing, cows are lowing and world is a wonderful place. A quick doff of the old flat cap to Farmer George and you eventually reach the field where you work, refreshed and ready for a tough day picking strawberries or driving a tractor.
If I said "Hello" to everyone I see in London, whether on a bike or on foot, I'd have to turn round and head home before I ever got to my office. It's simply not possible. How then do you select who you acknowledge? It's tricky but anyone wearing tweed, wearing a flat cap or munching on a piece of straw is to be treated with the utmost suspicion. They tend to smell funny and want to catch you eye or, God forbid, engage you in conversation about how busy it is. Pretty gals are always an option but there's only so many times you want to be verbally assaulted for being a "perv". Far better to ignore everyone and thereby treat them all totally equally, with no hint of political incorrectness (who the hell knows what else got made unacceptable overnight?), thereby arriving at one's desk in good time and un-accosted by strangers.
You know the saying about strangers being a friend you haven't made yet? It was said by a countryphile/ruralist/bumpkin (what is the correct noun?), of that I can be sure. In cities, strangers are muggers who haven't knifed you yet.
As an aside, you may not be aware of it, but there is a secret language on the tubes, buses and trains. People commute via the rustling of newspapers. There's quite an art to it but experienced proponents of the art have been known to be able to articulate over 300 individual words by this method.
The whole rural vs city thing is not so much about friendliness, it's about practicality.
I can imagine that when you country folk walk out of your front door, which is surrounded by a trellis of sweet smelling roses and then saunter up through the herbaceous border to your white picket gate, you wave cheerily at the milkman before heading off out to work. Go round to the barn, pat Dobbin on the head and retrieve the bike from the hay before heading out onto the road for the daily grind. Oh No! A heavy rush hour today - Mrs Gingerbread and Fred-the-Postman are both on the village green at the same time. No matter, a friendly wave and cheery "Hello!" before you're on your way once more without too much delay. The ducks quack a companionable greeting as you spray them with water crossing the ford next to the village pond. Birds are singing, cows are lowing and world is a wonderful place. A quick doff of the old flat cap to Farmer George and you eventually reach the field where you work, refreshed and ready for a tough day picking strawberries or driving a tractor.
If I said "Hello" to everyone I see in London, whether on a bike or on foot, I'd have to turn round and head home before I ever got to my office. It's simply not possible. How then do you select who you acknowledge? It's tricky but anyone wearing tweed, wearing a flat cap or munching on a piece of straw is to be treated with the utmost suspicion. They tend to smell funny and want to catch you eye or, God forbid, engage you in conversation about how busy it is. Pretty gals are always an option but there's only so many times you want to be verbally assaulted for being a "perv". Far better to ignore everyone and thereby treat them all totally equally, with no hint of political incorrectness (who the hell knows what else got made unacceptable overnight?), thereby arriving at one's desk in good time and un-accosted by strangers.
You know the saying about strangers being a friend you haven't made yet? It was said by a countryphile/ruralist/bumpkin (what is the correct noun?), of that I can be sure. In cities, strangers are muggers who haven't knifed you yet.
As an aside, you may not be aware of it, but there is a secret language on the tubes, buses and trains. People commute via the rustling of newspapers. There's quite an art to it but experienced proponents of the art have been known to be able to articulate over 300 individual words by this method.
