This happen about a month ago as I was cycling to Le Cordon Bleu, where I am currently enrolled. I had happily put the incidence from mind when an impromptu gesture from a heavily perspiring sportsman brought it all flooding back:
It was a lovely morning, albeit ridiculously early, and I was on the last leg of my journey peddling away in a fairly congenial state of mind. Then, as I squeezed past an ill-placed bus, a large fellow strolling on the pavement turned his head roadward and let fly an immense globule of spittle. I watched in mingled horror and disgust as it splatted down right in front of my wheel. Trapped as I was along my narrow strip of road, and moving at a goodly speed, there was no possibility of a timely swerve to save me. Indeed, it was with the greatest of dismay that I squelched through that veritable pool of bodily fluid. Already fuming inwardly at this indecency, matters did not improve when I rounded the next curb and rolled over a stray avocado, leaving a vivid green smear in my wake.
(Fellows ought not go gobbing over the streets, it is a distinctively unpleasant habit.)