I started this post because of a few things that have happened to me over the last three days.

Thursday night, I was returning home with my wife in our car, at about 11 o'clock. We were coming towards a pub on the left hand side, and I noticed a car about to join the main road from the car park.

As I was about to drive past him, he pulled out, causing me to swerve into the other side of the road, in order to avoid a collision.

He pulled over, and I stopped the car and went up to see if he was okay. Surprise, surprise, he was on his mobile! I tapped his window, and he looked at me as if to say, 'yeah, I'm on the 'phone, what do you want?' Needless to say, he didn't wind down his window.

I was convinced he must have had a few, so rather than have him risking someone else's life, I decided to call the police. Knowing how seriously they treat calls flagging potential incidences, I'm sure there was no follow-up, however, at least I know I did the right thing.

Later on, I realised that what saved our lives wasn't my lightening reactions; I don't have any. It was my experience as a motorcyclist.

As soon as the car had reached the car park exit I was already looking for an 'escape route,' a way to avoid a collision, just in case he should pull out. Which he did. By this time, I'd already checked that the opposite side of the road was clear, so it was just a case of swerving to avoid him.

You see, every biker knows a simple truth;

THEY ARE ALL OUT TO KILL YOU.

Not just motorists; cyclists, pedestrians, even other bikers, who really should know better.

This was later confirmed to me by a police officer I met on Friday. He told me that he'd passed his bike test in the 80's but since then, had attended so many road accidents involving bikers that he wouldn't contemplate buying a motorcycle.

As I'm blessed with an obsessive personality, I've taken the time to read every riding manual I can get me hands on. A personal favourite is the Roadcraft series, written for the police.

Another obsession is to do with safety gear; I wear over a grand's worth, and it takes me about 20 minutes to get kitted up!

Motorcycles are death machines; trust me, I've a father with one leg shorter than the other, a replacement hip, and a step-dad sans his left leg.

As they are professional racers, two cousins have the dubious honour of having broken every bone in their bodies, including their necks and backs.

Having said that, none of them were wearing the modern gear available today, had the training compulsory for anyone wanting to procure a licence to ride a two-wheeled machine, or had their riding continually assessed by a motorcycling association.

As the famous biker's quote goes, 'Bikes don't kill bikers, bikers kill bikers!'

Tobbot, aka Tobstv