Every afternoon chunks of lethal metal spill out of the city, and they're all mad at each other. The evening commute can be frustrating behind the wheel, but in this traffic I find escapism. My bicycle peddles get me past Sat Navs telling the poor to take the next left towards ludicrous APR and the rich in leather seats they love more than their ex-wives. It's my window of life, away from days reserved at a desk and nights of undeserved rest. I pass Ubers stuck up each other's asspipes and feel the wind in my face as I dart by cars and buses crawling in a slow motion notion. It feels good overtaking something 10 times my size. They all want to be me or I just think they do. I don't care which.