Detour

You can't beat getting off the 'A' roads and hitting some unclassified tarmac at the end of a busy day.

It gets you away from the white-knuckled-indicator-phobic suits that flit from one lane to another just to get to that junction 15 seconds ahead of you, and the flat bed van drivers that think every roundabout's the Nurburgring. Nobody uses these roads much it would seem, except the odd cheery cyclist who's also discovered the joys of road-rage avoidance. I feel slightly guilty harassing them as they pedal along in the middle of the road oblivious to me approaching, although, truth be told, I'm happy to tootle along in second gear behind them for as long as necessary. It gives me ample opportunity to soak up these views. From this road I can see the constant stream of vehicles whizzing by on the M9 motorway less than a mile away. In fact, I can happily pull over and take a leisurely picture of them in the distance.

So, next time you pass that wee road that you've always wondered "Where does that go?"; take the detour. You might be a bit late for your tea but I bet you'll also be a bit less crabbit too.