"There was a letter in one of the rags that passes for a newspaper, locally," she continued, "where the writer pointed out that most cyclists were themselves motorists, and so carried in their heads with them the view From The Other Side. I think his point was to urge motorists to do the same, advising them of all the obstacles cyclists faced - flat wheels, etc, which led them to ride in the middle of the traffic lane with no due regard to motorised traffic. Personally, I think that argument is rather self-defeating - if cyclists are acting like road hogs out of consideration to hazards they face, you'd imagine that a collision with a couple of tons of hot steel and glass would rate slightly higher than a possible twig or some alluvial sand!"
"Not _all_ cyclists are completely imbecilic on the roads!" reminded Gramsci, and the Cow concurred. "Indeed," she said, "some of them do actually obey the same traffic rules as the rest of the vehicles on the roads - well, bergie trolleys excepted. But I've physically witnessed cyclists actually stopping at red robots, riding in single file and ensuring that it is safe to do so before changing lanes or crossing traffic to turn right. It's amazing - I thought their graphite steeds would implode or their fellows would drag them off and beat them to a pulp, but the Universe didn't actually end!" "Yet!" muttered Gramsci, eternally optimistic.
"But what really interested me," the Cow resumed, "was this idea of cyclists being sometime-motorists. it made perfect sense! Where do all these BeeMerc drivers go once their expensive car is parked in the triple garage? They can't spend 24hrs in the car, they must have another life too... and, it seems, this is it! Like the Masonic apron, the lycra top is a vestment of a secret brotherhood intent on world domination - oh, wait, are those the Masons or the Illuminati or the Knights Templar...?" The Cow looked non-plussed.
She'd suddenly remembered... Mr Timberland - heavily disguised these days as Mr Jeep - had recently taken to driving a Beemer. She wondered if the Brethren of the BeeMercHood had an elaborate system of secret handshakes, or if they simply relied on their esoteric discussions of Argus Seedings and Training Runs to the same ends?