I know I’m coming a bit late to this, so forgive me, but it was with more than one shake of my head that I read about Shane Warne’s vitriolic outburst against cyclists last week.

I am a regular driver and bike rider and in all my time on the road I have seen more inappropriate behaviour from those in charge of four wheels, than from those with two.

Since I started riding to work two months ago there is one particular demographic of car user that has come to irk me the most. The P-plater.

Don’t get me wrong.

Thanks to my laziness and fear of driving instructors at 23 I am still a P-plater myself, so I don’t want to generalise.

But I am talking about the particular P-plater who, with four of his noisy mates in the car, likes to play doof-doof music and harass members of the opposite sex.

On at least three occasions I have been riding up a hill when a car has zoomed up behind me, driver revving the engine and beeping the horn.

After I’ve managed to get over the fright and steady my bike, I have been greeted with an array of sexually suggestive comments.

I know I’m not special; these guys probably harass women waiting at bus stops and girls out walking their dogs.

But the fact they’re almost rear-ending me as well as calling me names takes the cake.

It’s not like I’m riding topless in one of those naked bicycle rallies.

My pedal power doesn’t make me the town bike, it just means I own one.