A few days ago, I wrote about my adventures on a bicycle. It’s been 20 years since I’ve been on a bike, and it shows. I’m approaching it as if I know nothing, because that isn’t far from the truth. I have 21 speeds that I’m still learning how to shift, and I’m learning that, while Portland may be Bike City USA, it can still be a dangerous place to be on two wheels.
One great thing about Portland is that the city puts a lot of effort and money into creating a bike-friendly atmosphere. On a beautiful warm Spring day like yesterday, it can seem as if there are nearly as many bike as cars on some streets. As is true everywhere, motorists and bicyclists can occasionally find themselves at odds in a very uneven fight. The reality is that a painted bike lane and a green bikes-only space is no defense against an irate driver deciding that his haste overrides a bicyclist’s safety.
Most motorists are reasonable and conscious of the vulnerability of your average bicyclist. There are also a very small, unreasonable minority incensed that a bicyclist would have the temerity to expect to share the road. (Yes, there’s also the reality that a small minority of bicyclists don’t believe that traffic laws apply to them.) I can handle idiots screaming at me; I could care less what some brain-dead cretin thinks of me. It’s a free country; they’re free to their opinion…and I’m free to ignore them, which I generally do.
The most dangerous are the clueless, inattentive drivers who can’t be bothered to take a good look around. These are the folk whos change lanes into you and then get offended when you scream at them. While riding into downtown Portland yesterday morning, a BMW zipped from the left to the right lane, missing my front wheel by mere inches. After gathering myself and calming down, I continued on. Before long, I caught up with the BMW at a stop light.
Montana plates. Great, I thought, someone who’s probably never seen a human on a bike in their lives. I didn’t want to just let it go, so, after resolving to be as polite as possible, I rapped lightly on the door glass. Then I discovered that some folks live in their own little world.
ME: Did you realize that you cut me off back there?
WOMAN: Oh, really? I’m sorry. (By the tone of her voice, it was clear that she had NO idea that I’d even been in the same area code.)
ME (Desired response): [Insert long string of expletives here….] Look, I don’t know what you encounter in West Bumfuk, but here in Portland there are a lot of bicycles on the road…and you don’t get to just blithely zip from lane to lane as if you’re the only thing on the road. Keep driving like that, and an angry bicyclist (maybe even me) is liable to scrape a key down the side of your pristine little Beemer. Capice??
ME (Actual response): I understand you’re not from around here, but you might want to keep in mind that there are a LOT of bicycles on the road here in Portland. You really need to drive a bit more carefully.
WOMAN: (In an exasperated, put-upon tone of voice): OH-KAYYYY.
At this point, I realized that I could have been talking to a wall and had a bigger impact, so I just let it go. I’d said my piece, it had zero effect, and the light turned green. Off she went, probably to run over someone on a $1500 Cannondale. I proceeded on my way with a heightened sense of my own mortality. Despite the close call, it was a beautiful, sunny Spring day; I wasn’t about to let one clueless, self-absorbed rich girl ruin my enjoyment of it.
Sitting on the saddle of a mountain bike has provided me with an interesting change of perspective. I’m a driver myself, and I generally try to be aware of bicyclists, most of whom are decent sorts who obey traffic laws and are just trying to get from Point A to Point B. It’s not always fun being stuck behind a bike, but they have as much right to the traffic lane as I do. There are a fair number of people out there who find it difficult to channel their hostility toward and hatred of bicyclists in a healthy manner. Every now and then a bicyclist is injured- or worse- because a driver wasn’t paying attention or felt that being behind the wheel of an automobile makes them more worthy of the road than someone riding a child’s toy.
There are 20 years separating me from my $800 racing bike. I’m not a seasoned rider by any means, though it’s coming back and I’m slowly getting better. If nothing else, I understand why so many bicyclist feel the need to scream at drivers.
Now if I could just figure out how to shift correctly….
