The cycling fraternity is up in arms because the Sliema Council has decided that a pavement is not the right place to bomb around on two wheels.

 

Forgive me, but I think the Sliema Council is right.  I'm not one for gratuitous exercise, on two legs or two wheels, so I'm not often to be found promenading "fuq il-Front", but seriously, guys, hulking great cyclists in crash helmets and tight spandex zooming around the people who walk or jog along there?  

 

And let's not forget that cyclists don't pay any road tax, or personal cycling licenses, so they don't contribute anything to the public purse, though this doesn't stop them moaning and groaning all the time about how they don't have any facilities and about how car drivers seem hell-bent on mowing them down.

 

Grow up, guys, you belong on the road, not the pavement, and if you're scared to ride on any particular stretch of road, don't, get your exercise where it isn't so dangerous.  It's not as if you have to ride to work, most people on push-bikes do it for fun.

 

I, on the other hand, ride another form of two-wheeled transportation, a motor-bike, and I pay for the privilege of doing so. Oh, and I don't expect to be allowed to ride on the pavement, either.

 

So here's my moan and groan, in plural, to boot.

 

Roads in Malta are crap, they are crap for cars and they are even crappier for bikes.  The tarmac, where it isn't torn up and imitative of a wash-board (usually on corners or roundabouts, guaranteeing a good chance of coming off) is shiny, meaning you will very likely come off when you make a move that needs any grip at all, like cornering at anything about walking speed.  And that's referring to what are laughingly called 'major roads', the situation on every other road is even worse, pitiable, in fact.

 

Car drivers in Malta are generally idiots: they have no idea of lane discipline, keeping a proper look-out or general road sense, and when you're on two wheels (and here I have some sympathy for the human-powered bikers) you tend to want the fools in their metal jackets to obey the rules.  I count it as a good day when, on the way into work, not more than three morons try to get me.

 

Facilities for motor-bikes in Malta are ludicrous: parking spaces are few and far between, and sometimes stupidly sited (the one in Old Bakery Street where you park your bike on the wrong down-angle of the hill is just one example) and wardens and cops seem to delight in stuffing a ticket under your seat, even if you're not obstructing anyone.

 

OK, rant over.