Chris Rea is a keen cyclist and wrote the Road to He'll about the fraught 6 mile ride to the studio each morning:
Cycled fast on a highway I saw a woman by the side of the road
With a face that I knew like my own, reflected in my bar end mirrors
Well, she walked up to my crossbar and she bent down real slow
A fearful puncture paralysed me in my shadows
She said: Son, what are you riding here?
My fear for you has turned me in my grave
I said: Mama, I come to the valley of the rich, on my Grifter
She said: Son, this is the road to hell
On your journey 'cross town from the cafe to the library
You have strayed upon the motorway to hell
Well, the old bill are on their way
To Taser you in the scrotum
Then I'm underneath the streetlights, but the light of joy I know
Scared beyond belief pedalling down the hard shoulder
And the perverted fear of violence chokes me like a kinky Tory MP
And common sense is ringing out my bell
This ain't no technological breakdown, oh no, this is the road to hell
And all the roads jam up with potholes and there's nothing you can do
It's all just bits of your teeth flying away from you
Look out world, take a good look at my flat tyre
You must learn this lesson fast and learn it well
This ain't no lightweight carbon fibre crotch rocket
Oh no, this is the bike, this is the bike, this is the bike from Hell.