Justin Comiskey: Cycling in the city isn't just a matter of jumping on a bike and pedalling with the flow of traffic. To survive as a cyclist on Dublin's streets you need your safety-first senses to be razor sharp
As a commuting cyclist - my attitude to choosing public transport, cars or motorbikes as a reliable means of getting to work is best described by imagining the Rev Ian Paisley bellowing "Never, Never, Never" - I've had to develop an acute appreciation, born of many near misses, of where danger lies and the keenest of response times between identifying it and applying the brakes.
In my experience, the road-users most likely to collide with city cyclists are pedestrians. Given that cyclists generally inhabit road space and pedestrians are found mainly on footpaths, this may sound like a strange statement. But no other group in the capital seem to disregard cyclists more than pedestrians.
For example, if a cyclist is approaching the traffic lights at the bottom of Grafton Street, a percentage of pedestrians will ignore the pedal-pusher - particularly if unaccompanied by cars or buses. The standard approach of some pedestrians is to put the head down while crossing the road and hope the cyclist can stop in time.
If cycling in the city centre, assume all pedestrians are liable to walk out in front of you; and, if a pedestrian appears to be a visitor from the Continent, expect it. Given that our Continental cousins drive on the other side of the road, some European visitors to Dublin instinctively look the wrong way for oncoming traffic before crossing.
I crashed into a man from Belgium outside Greene's bookshop on Clare Street because he looked left rather than right before stepping on to the road. The collision wasn't too serious and, after we'd confirmed that each of us was fit to go our separate ways, he looked the wrong way again, walked straight in front of a delivery van - and narrowly missed meeting his maker.
In my experience, animals are another considerable danger. I've run over a black cat, come within an inch of squashing a squirrel, emergency-braked for numerous dogs and narrowly missed a potentially nasty collision with a bunch of bickering ducks while cycling over the Dodder in Ballsbridge.
On the Merrion Road one morning I also came across a pair of dogs in, shall we say, a compromising position, which proved a source of much merriment to many passing motorists. So much so, in fact, that some forgot to look at the road ahead, drifting in towards the kerb and forcing a few cyclists to, ahem, mount the footpath for safety.
Conkers are another hazard. Whoever decided to line busy roads with horse chestnut trees really should be forced to cycle along the Merrion Road in September or October to see if they can stay upright while running over batches of rock-like conkers in a one-foot corridor beside the kerb. Add in wet leaves and blocked gutters and it takes the most precise of high-wire acts to remain upright.
And can someone in authority please note that flat metal plates - sometimes used to cover deep holes during road works - are a sure way to bring a cyclist crashing down in wet weather? It's madness to put these metal sheets near corners; you might as well say to the cyclist, "There's some black ice for you - have a nice slide".
Cyclists need to know not just their route, but also the road surfaces they will encounter. There are so many examples of dire patchwork on my four-mile trip to the city centre that the space afforded by this column is, literally, miles too short to mention them all. To all those who repair roads after digging them up: please spare a thought for the average cyclist, who isn't a professional mountain-biker. When finished, leave the patched surface flush with the rest of road - which is where many cyclists have ended up as a result of your sloppy workmanship.
As I write, there is a recent addition to the topography of the bus lane on Northumberland Road whose maker(s) I would like to meet. If you're reading this, I challenge you to cycle over your creation in the dark during a rain shower with a taxi on your tail. It's bound to give you the hump, rather like your contribution to the road surface.
As for the other road -users cyclists encounter on Dublin's streets - drivers of cars, motorbikes, buses, 18-wheel lorries, amphibious landing craft whose foul fumes have to be inhaled to be believed and 4x4 "Blackrock mobile" drivers who haven't a clue how to manoeuvre their virtual APCs in tight city streets - the cyclist should always assume the worst: that they can't see you and don't want to see you.
And, should the cyclist encounter rival road-users spoiling for some verbals, adopt the approach suggested by Clive James as the only effective way to deal with pollution while swimming off Bondi Beach: shut your mouth. You can always wave goodbye as you make your way through the gridlock faster than them.