Oblivious

The Christchurch easterly pushed me effortlessly along the red cycleway. A morning mother was parked across it. I shimmied around her car, whizzing across the gutter-bridge into the traffic and then back around onto the cycleway. Meanwhile the driver got out and checked her letter box. I looked around, hoping to catch her eye reproachfully, but she did not see me.

It's such a marvellous word.

Ob-livi-ous.