Two weeks ago a motorcyclist died outside my work. I don't know what happened but it stirred something up inside me. I know I don't ride a motorbike but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel vulnerable on the road. And I realise this is where my aggression on the bike comes from, that is, my anger comes about from not being able to control my environment. It's tough when you know that someones poorly considered maneuver or impatience could ultimately result in you living the rest of your life in a wheelchair, or death. I'm trying to learn how not to get mad.

This photo is taken two weeks later at the same time of day, and now all that is left is a patch of sand on the road, a wraper from a Pacing/Defibrilation/ECG Electrode Preconnect System, and some flowers. The people who's journeys were held up by the closed road are blinded by the low sun and back to overtaking with oncoming cars, and round the bend.

Phil.