Learner

Never let it be said that I am not a genius. In the task of Getting People To Not Try And Kill Me, I have found the ultimate scooter weapon:

Learner Plates.

They are magic. Suddenly, nobody is cutting me up anymore. Nobody is beeping. Nobody is revving behind me, or trying to race me at lights. People are giving me such a wide berth that they`re in danger of driving into the barrier on the other side of the road. With one large sticker, purchased for 60 pence and intended for cars, I`m not That Racer Who Needs To Be Taught A Lesson anymore: I`m Just A Little Beginner, Bless Her. I`m not cocky and arrogant: I`m brave and vulnerable. I`m no longer That Crap Driver Who Wobbles: I`m Doing My Very Best, Poor Thing. I`m not Driving Too Fucking Slow; I`m Being Very Sensible And Respecting Big Dangerous Vehicles Like Us. Nobody glares at me anymore: they look at me fondly and paternally as they take a twenty metre detour around me. Look at her go, I can literally see them thinking. Look how gutsy she is. Why, she could be my own daughter. I must take extra special care not to hit her or frighten the poor little thing with my big angry van.

And, just like that, I`ve finally discovered what most women learn in kindergarten: that faking vulnerability - or simply admitting what was there in the first place - brings fondness and security. That being soft and humble and wide eyed and oh-so-scared-of-the-world makes the world want to protect you. Because as long as you let everyone believe you need them to take care of you - as long as you`ve made it clear that you`re lesser, and softer, and smaller and passive - people will take care of you. As long as you convince them you think they`re powerful, they`ll give you all the power. The trick of wiley women since the beginning of time. The trick that never, ever fails to work: that of perceived weakness.

The trick I`m using this once simply so that the world doesn`t keep actively trying to run me over.

I`m no more vulnerable today than I was yesterday when I was shaking my fist and driving into fences. I drive exactly the same: at the same speed, in the same part of the road, with the same wobbliness. I`m no more or less capable of being crushed by a truck: if something large and steel hits me, I`m still just as screwed. And I`m not scared at all. I`ve jumped off a mountain with a piece of material attached to my back: going 30kmh on a small piece of metal doesn`t frighten me in the slightest. But with one outward sign, I`ve made everyone think that it does.

And that, apparently, makes all the difference.