Ganja and The Nissan Micra bus

My cycle commute is normally a 17 minute flat, traffic congested, traffic-lighted, nerve-shredded brake-fest. The only reprieve is the last quarter mile of the journey which I do in a bus-and-bike lane on the Stratford Road. I enjoy cruising past the cars that had earlier overtook me as we went through Hall Green. Now the cars are all queued up, one behind the other, the drivers trapped in their cages peering at mobile phones or looking wistfully at the cyclist free-wheeling past them.

Two incidents of note have happened on this little stretch this month:

As I was coming past the Bulls Head on the Stratford Road, a black Golf nearly swiped me off my bike by driving dangerously close and almost forcing me up onto the pavement. Nothing new there. As usual, I caught him up when we reached the bus lane and he joined the queue. I stopped next to his car for a chat and he immediately, guiltily rolled the window down. He was very apologetic and also very very...sleepy. It was then that I noticed that he smelled like Bob Marley's beard and was clutching a spliff! I suggested to him that he shouldn't be smoking weed and driving. To my surprise he agreed! But then he drove off again...
I wish I'd taken his registration number - the guy is a danger to others.


The second incident involved a little Nissan Micra that decided it didn't need to join the queue, but was entitled to drive all the way down the bus lane, driving past almost 100 cars! I caught up at the lights, parked my bike against a fence, took off my backpack, got my phone out, stood in front of the car and pretended to take a photograph of the number plate. The occupants, two Indian ladies staring at me open-mouthed, will hopefully be worrying about that for the next week or so!