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The other was where James “God, I hate cyclists” Martin - our favourite
       celebrity chef  - suggested  a form of Tesla silent (road) “Rage” in his tabloid
       motoring column, to intimidate local riders using the O.S. Hampshire Cycle
       Routes near his home.

       Oliver’s article coincided with Father’s Day 2018 and the Hartley’s debouched
       to Chawton, a haven of gentility in rural Hampshire, normally associated with
       Jane  Austen.  On  the  way  there  -  about  1030  -we  drove  along  the  A31
       dual-carriageway between Farnham and Alton and noticed that a CTT event
       was taking place. This was well marshalled and signposted and the riders
       well  ordered,  complete  with  F1-style  flashing  rear  lights.  The  event  also
       seemed replete with observers at the roadside, some taking their ease sat
       at picnic tables!


       On reaching Chawton we mentioned this to our hostess for the day, a nursing
       sister with no obvious “Axe-to-Grind” about cyclists. She did remark however
       that, “there had been a couple of fatalities recently” along that stretch of
       road,  caused  by  reckless  motoring.  This  we  took  as  being  the  local’s
       perception of cycling on that road, where they think “Sense and Sensibility”
       should otherwise perhaps prevail. Bear in mind here that the A31 Bentley
       bypass forms the basis of the heavily-used Hxx/8 courses, used by local clubs
       in the London West DC.



       On  our  return  home  at  about  1730,  we  approached  the  (aptly-named)
       Cuckoo’s  Corner  roundabout,  coincident  with  one  of  the  now-weary
       competitors. He was poorly-placed to rejoin the lane towards Farnham, as
       was also our intention. We slowed down to possibly accommodate the rider,
       but he also slowed and wisely passed behind our vehicle, not losing too much
       time/momentum. As we left the roundabout we did however receive some
       mouth and gesticulation from a race official /observer at the roadside which
       left us both feeling a bit “Put Out”! A verbal complaint to the lady timekeeper
       along  the  road  was  not  well  received,  as  she  was  obviously  too  busy  to
       address my concerns. This led to her rather imperious explanation that this
       was in fact the National 12-hour Championship and that I should perhaps


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