Archive for Best of

Yesterday’s ride, after which I attend a meeting

Hi, I’m BikingIn…

Sorry, we only use first names here.

Oh. Okay. I’m, uh…Biking, and I’m a middle-finger-holic.

Hi Biking.

I promised myself I was going to quit. Really, I was. And I was doing okay. I hadn’t made a single obscene gesture or swore at anyone for over a month, no matter how much they deserved it.

Until today, that is. (blushing in shame)

Go on.

Well, there I was, riding up San Vicente on the way home from today’s ride, when two cars right-hooked me within just a couple blocks.

See, that surprised me, because most drivers there seem to be used to cyclists. And just look at me. Six feet tall and 180 pounds, bright yellow, black and white jersey. I mean, I’m pretty hard to miss.

But sure enough, some woman in a black Mercedes zipped by on my left, then cut across right my path to make a right turn. So I jammed on my brakes to avoid a collision, and next thing I know, I’m sending a one-fingered solute her way.

(Murmuring)

Then couple blocks later, bam! It happens again. This time an older guy in a ‘70s era rolling junkyard. He zooms by, cuts right in front of me to make his turn, then casually glances my way as I panic stop to avoid him. And yeah, the bird flew once again.

Five weeks of middle-finger sobriety down the drain.

Why’d they do it? Who knows.

Maybe they don’t know how dangerous it is, or maybe they didn’t know I had the right of way — same way a car in the left lane can’t cut off a car in the right lane. Could be they wanted to send a message, like the good doctor did last year, or didn’t think my life was worth the few seconds of inconvenience it would have taken to let me pass safely.

Or maybe they just didn’t care.

Worst part is, it’s not like those gestures did any good. Even if they saw it, it’s not going to convince the drivers that they did anything wrong. It just confirms that cyclists are rude a**holes, so they feel justified driving like that again next time.

Which is why I’m really, really trying to quit.

On the other hand, I could’ve flipped off the driver in Brentwood shortly after that. But I didn’t. No matter how much he deserved.

See, he was cruising along looking for a parking space. And not only was he clogging the whole right lane, he was also driving with two wheels in the parking lane, blocking my path, as well.

I checked to make sure there were no other cars coming, and swung around to pass him on the left. Then he sped up again, with no idea that I was riding right next to his driver’s side window.

The cars ahead of us were stopped at a traffic light, and there wasn’t anyone behind us. And I was going at least as fast as he was, so that meant I was moving at the speed of traffic.

And I could ride anywhere I wanted.

You see, section 21202 of the California Vehicle Code clearly states:

Any person operating a bicycle upon a roadway at a speed less than the normal speed of traffic moving in the same direction at that time shall ride as close as practicable to the right-hand curb or edge of the roadway…

But since I was moving at the speed of traffic — in fact, I’d picked up my pace a little, making me, at that moment at least, the fastest vehicle on the roadway — I took the lane.

The left lane.

Then once I was safely ahead of him, I signaled my lane change, and crossed back over to my usual position on the side of the road. Leaving one very surprised driver in my wake.

But I didn’t say one word, or make a single gesture. I mean, that’s got to be worth something, right?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to call my sponsor. And get back on the road to middle-finger sobriety.

……….

Metro finally considers lifting their ban on bikes at rush hour – hey, a radical idea like that could actually encourage people to leave their cars at home! Metblogs comments on all the non-cyclists clogging the beach bike path. A tourist in San Diego is killed after falling from a pedicab. In a truly heartbreaking report, a 90-year old Visalia cyclist is in critical condition after being struck while turning by a driver “who could not avoid the bicyclist.” Right. The NY Times asks if bicycling is bad for your bones; based on personal experience, I’d say it is if you fall. Popular Mechanics note that le Tour is a proving ground for innovations that could filter down to your level, including the new electronic shifters. A writer in the Hamptons argues for shared roadways. Finally, if you can’t find Will this morning, he’s at the Jackopalooza saying his farewells to Michael.

Selling bike safety, culture and infrastructure to a suspicious public

The single most powerful political manifesto I’ve ever read was written by Dale Carnegie.

I don’t think he intended to write a revolutionary treatise. But over the years, I’ve found the suggestions contained in his 70-year old book, How to Win Friends and Influence People, are more effective in creating political and societal change than any sit-in, march or demonstration.

One in particular has been proven over and over to be a brilliant political tool: “Always talk in terms of the other man’s interest.” That is, look at it from their perspective, and think about they’re interested in, rather than what’s in it for you.

I been thinking about that since I attended a session on advanced bike traffic planning tools, hosted by Ryan Snyder of Ryan Snyder Associates, at the L.A. Bike Summit on Saturday. He talked about a number of innovative bike traffic solutions, from sharrows and bike boxes, to painted bike lanes and improved signage.

But what really caught my attention were two things:

First was the concept of Road Diets. Simply put, it’s the idea that traffic flow and neighborhoods can both be improved by reducing the number of lanes.

For instance, a typical four-lane street that carries 20,000 vehicles or less a day can often be reconfigured into two through lanes, with a center left turn lane so that turning cars don’t block traffic, while leaving room for bike lanes on either side. This reduction can actually improve vehicle flow, while calming traffic speeds and permitting a dramatic increase in bike usage — and improve safety for both drivers and riders, while revitalizing the surrounding neighborhood.

The other one was the idea of Bike Boulevards — something a number of local riders have advocated lately.

At its most basic, a bike boulevard is a street, often parallel to a major thoroughfare, that has been optimized to encourage bike traffic. At the same time, it employs various barriers, roundabouts and signal changes to discourage vehicle through traffic.

You don’t have to sell cyclists on the concept of a bike boulevard. Build it, and we will come.

But as Ryan pointed out, the problem for both of these ideas — especially bike boulevards — comes when it’s time to sell local residents and business owners on the idea. With today’s over-congested traffic, very few people are open to the idea of actually reducing traffic lanes.

And no one wants to live on a bike boulevard.

People who live there tend to envision a thundering horde of two-wheeled thugs invading their street, reducing their property values and making them second-class citizens in their own neighborhoods.

Yet the reality is just the opposite. By eliminating through traffic, a bike boulevard will dramatically reduce vehicle traffic, making their street quieter, more peaceful and significantly safer, while local traffic is still able move in and out with ease.

Streets become more walkable, as well as bike-able, encouraging residents to get out and meet their neighbors. And the enhanced landscaping and beautification projects that often are part of a bike boulevard project — in part to get buy-in from the locals — results in a more attractive streetscape.

All that adds up to a better, more livable neighborhood. And means that property values could actually go up, not down.

The same holds true for a business district. Reduced traffic flow means less through traffic, resulting in quieter streets less congestion and easier access for drivers who do want to stop and shop. Parking can be improved and streets beautified, creating a neighborhood ideal for strolling or sidewalk cafes, while the extra bike traffic could actually bring more customers to the area.

Everyone wins.

So we have to do a much better job of marketing — whatever we’re selling. Because the key to getting bike boulevards and the other biking infrastructure, safety improvements, better educated, less biased and more effective police, and acceptance of bike culture, is not to demand our rights, but to look at it from their perspective.

We have to show local authorities, as well as home and business owners, exactly how and why it works to their benefit.

And let them demand it, instead.

***

Streetsblog offers some great biking links this morning, as well as a good overview of the keynote speakers at the Bike Summit. Gary, Brayj and Drew also offer reviews, though in the latter case, I fear I have once again failed to make a good impression. Will offers links to photos, as well as photos and video of his close encounter with Lance following the Summit. Los Angeles Rides quotes from a New York Times article about riding in the city, and how we make ourselves look bad — and not just by wearing spandex. Bicycle Fixation demonstrates that once again, cycling offers better stress relief than any prescription drug. The Biking Lawyer relates the history of the Stop As Yield Law. And Los Angeles Cyclist offers parts 3, 4 & 5 in his five part story of the Ridiculous Pink Fixie.

That’s so L.A. — Pedestrian-free crosswalks

 

They say no one walks in L.A. And that may be true soon, if our local department of transportation continues their policy of removing crosswalks for the safety of pedestrians.

No, seriously.

Then there’s this intersection in Westwood, which features what may be the world’s first crosswalk where no pedestrians are allowed — despite the presence of a working pedestrian signal.

Kind of makes you wonder just who it’s intended for, doesn’t it?

westwood-crosswalk1

On a totally unrelated note — after two decades as an Angeleno, I had long ago given up any hope of finding a decent tamale in this town. At least without making a pilgrimage to East L.A.

Then a few weeks ago, we took a trip to MacArthur Park and discovered Mama’s Hot Tamales Café. Absolutely the best tamales I’ve ever had in this town. And the best part is, it’s a non-profit restaurant established to help train people for careers in the restaurant industry, while helping to reclaim and revitalize the MacArthur Park area.

So check it out if you get a chance. Because a cyclist has to eat. And be sure to try the Mexican Mocha — by far, the single best cuppa joe I’ve had in years.

Open for lunch 11 am — 3:30 pm, 7 days a week.

The Cycling Lawyer says goodbye to Velo News. A new database has been established to track dangerous and threatening drivers here in Los Angeles. And a Belgian cyclist has been found dead in his hotel room during the Tour of Qatar.

 

That’s so L.A. — Pedestrian-free crosswalks

 

They say no one walks in L.A. And that may be true soon, if our local department of transportation continues their policy of removing crosswalks for the safety of pedestrians.

No, seriously.

Then there’s this intersection in Westwood, which features what may be the world’s first crosswalk where no pedestrians are allowed — despite the presence of a working pedestrian signal.

Kind of makes you wonder just who it’s intended for, doesn’t it?

westwood-crosswalk1

On a totally unrelated note — after two decades as an Angeleno, I had long ago given up any hope of finding a decent tamale in this town. At least without making a pilgrimage to East L.A.

Then a few weeks ago, we took a trip to MacArthur Park and discovered Mama’s Hot Tamales Café. Absolutely the best tamales I’ve ever had in this town. And the best part is, it’s a non-profit restaurant established to help train people for careers in the restaurant industry, while helping to reclaim and revitalize the MacArthur Park area.

So check it out if you get a chance. Because a cyclist has to eat. And be sure to try the Mexican Mocha — by far, the single best cuppa joe I’ve had in years.

Open for lunch 11 am — 3:30 pm, 7 days a week.

The Cycling Lawyer says goodbye to Velo News. A new database has been established to track dangerous and threatening drivers here in Los Angeles. And a Belgian cyclist has been found dead in his hotel room during the Tour of Qatar.

 

That’s so L.A. — Pedestrian-free crosswalks

 

They say no one walks in L.A. And that may be true soon, if our local department of transportation continues their policy of removing crosswalks for the safety of pedestrians.

No, seriously.

Then there’s this intersection in Westwood, which features what may be the world’s first crosswalk where no pedestrians are allowed — despite the presence of a working pedestrian signal.

Kind of makes you wonder just who it’s intended for, doesn’t it?

westwood-crosswalk1

On a totally unrelated note — after two decades as an Angeleno, I had long ago given up any hope of finding a decent tamale in this town. At least without making a pilgrimage to East L.A.

Then a few weeks ago, we took a trip to MacArthur Park and discovered Mama’s Hot Tamales Café. Absolutely the best tamales I’ve ever had in this town. And the best part is, it’s a non-profit restaurant established to help train people for careers in the restaurant industry, while helping to reclaim and revitalize the MacArthur Park area.

So check it out if you get a chance. Because a cyclist has to eat. And be sure to try the Mexican Mocha — by far, the single best cuppa joe I’ve had in years.

Open for lunch 11 am — 3:30 pm, 7 days a week.

The Cycling Lawyer says goodbye to Velo News. A new database has been established to track dangerous and threatening drivers here in Los Angeles. And a Belgian cyclist has been found dead in his hotel room during the Tour of Qatar.

 

Control the intersection, control your safety

 

Recently, my wife and I were driving up Doheny, just below Beverly, when we came upon a young woman riding slowly in the right lane.

She was nicely dressed, as if she was going out for the evening. Yet she seemed to know what she was doing, riding just inside the right lane — and just outside dooring range.

I made sure to give her a wide passing berth as I drove around her, as a courtesy from one cyclist to another, before stopping at a red light at the next intersection.

As we waited for the light to change, the rider carefully worked her way past the cars lined up behind us until she reached the intersection. Then she moved left, stopping in the crosswalk just in front of our car.

My wife was annoyed that she was in our way once again. But recognizing a skilled rider, I told her to be patient. And sure enough, as soon as the light turned green, she pulled to the right, allowing us — and the other cars behind us — to safely pass while she crossed the intersection, before reclaiming her space in the lane.

I could fault her for not wearing a helmet — while she looked great, her stylish tam wasn’t likely to offer much protection in the event of an accident — but I had to admire the way she rode. And the way she controlled the intersection.

Because an intersection — any intersection — can be a dangerous place for a cyclist. And too many make the mistake of letting traffic dictate how they ride, instead of taking control of the situation.

For instance, a lot of riders will just stop in place when traffic comes to a halt, and stay right where they are in the traffic lane behind the line of cars.

They probably think they’re doing the right thing. But drivers coming up from behind may not expect to find a bike there, and may not react in time. And waiting behind even a single car could hide a rider from cars coming from the opposite direction, dramatically increasing the risk of a collision.

Which is not to say that drivers shouldn’t be aware of everyone on the road — bikes and pedestrians included.

But this is the real world. And you shouldn’t risk your life based on the limited skills and attention spans of those sharing the road with you.

Moving up to the front of the line ensures that everyone can see you, no matter what direction they’re coming from. It also means that the cars behind you are stopped, instead of leaving you exposed and vulnerable to any cars that are still moving — and drivers who may not be paying attention.

But even riders who make a habit of moving up to the intersection sometimes stop there, and wait patiently next to the lead car.

That can present it’s own problems, though.

By waiting beside the lead car, you run the risk of blocking access to the right turn lane, preventing cars from being able to make the right turn on a red light that we Californians treasure as our God-given birthright. And that can mean having an angry, impatient driver behind you — which is never a good thing.

Then there’s the risk that the driver at the head of the line won’t notice you waiting there beside him, and make a sudden right turn across your path — or worse, directly into you.

But you can virtually eliminate that risk by moving slightly forward and to the left, coming to a stop in front of the driver’s right front bumper.

That way, the turning lane is clear for anyone who wants to go right. And you’re directly in the lead driver’s field of view, where he can’t help but see you — and blocking him from any sudden moves that could put you in danger. Yet you’re still close enough to the side that you can get out of the way quickly if anything goes wrong.

Then once the light changes, just move slightly to the right so the cars pass while you cross the road. And then back into the traffic lane when you reach the other side.

I’m usually faster off the line than most drivers, and often reach the other side long before they do. But I still move to the right when the light changes — both out of courtesy and to protect myself from any impatient jerks who feel the need to race me across the street.

Bob Mionske, the cycling lawyer, joins the debate on changing the law to treat stop signs as yields. A self-described mediocre cyclist wants your help to become a full-fledged racer. An Alaskan rider explains why some riders prefer the streets to a “perfectly good” bike trail. Green LA Girl notes that LACBC is looking for bilingual bike safety advocates. Finally, City Watch points the lack of bike parking — and quality crappers — at Downtown’s new LALive.

 

Mama said there’d be days like this, too.

I’d planned on writing a follow-up to Tuesday’s post, in which I’d suggest changes to the current biking laws.

Maybe next time.

Because that’s what I was thinking about as I was riding today, when I suddenly realized I was missing a hell of a great ride. So I mentally hit command – option – escape (control – alt – delete for you ‘softies out there) and shut off that part of my brain for the remainder of the day.

It was one of those idyllic late summer days, when it might be unbearably hot inland, but absolutely ideal closer to the coast. Warm and dry, clear blue sky, little or no wind, and big, blue waves forming perfect curls crashing on the beach. The only flaw was a wall of haze – a local euphemism for smog, for the uninitiated – along the coast above Malibu; but since I wasn’t going that way, the only thing it marred the view north across the bay.

Better yet, this was the week it finally all came together for me – that magical moment when cycling becomes almost effortless, and you can just ride, without having to think about it or work at it. Usually I reach that point by mid-July; this year, as I struggled to come back from the infamous bee encounter, I was starting to think I wasn’t going to get there at all.

Then as I was riding on Monday, I suddenly found myself just…riding. For once, I wasn’t trying to get in shape or thinking about what I was doing. I carved effortless curves through the corners, and zoomed along a couple of gears higher, and a couple miles an hour faster, than I had just the week before.

And just enjoyed the ride.

I enjoyed that same effortless feeling today as I rode, enough that I was able to hold my tongue when I found myself passing the helmet-less, mountain bike-riding jerk I’d encountered a few moments earlier. The one I’d just seen blow through a red light, forcing the oncoming traffic to brake to avoid him, then speeding up to cut off a car on a narrow corner a few seconds later — again, forcing the driver to brake hard to avoid him.

Normally, I might have said something. And maybe I should have. But it just didn’t seem worth marring such a lovely day.

Same with the county beach employee who was driving his pick-up with two wheels in the bike lane, as he prepared for a turn a few hundred yards further down the road. I ended up right next to his open window at the next light, and almost said something.

But for a change, I just didn’t feel like it.

Instead, I contentedly followed the young guy riding with his jeans rolled up, who insisted on jumping ahead of me when the light changed — and surprisingly, was able to ride just fast enough to keep ahead of me. I finally passed him on the marina section of the bike path, after I kicked it up to my big gear, raising my speed another 4 or 5 mph. Yet when I got to the fork between the Ballona and Braude bike paths, he was still there, just a few yards behind me.

I really had to admire him, because I was really hauling through there. And I was actually dressed for the part.

The rest of my ride was just as pleasant, if uneventful, until I found myself speeding downhill about a mile from home. Suddenly, the car ahead of me stopped without warning to let a pedestrian cross, forcing me to swerve right at over 25 mph to get around him. Then as I did, the driver waiting at the cross street took that as his opportunity to cross, and pull out directly into my path. So I gently squeezed the brakes and swerved right again to go around him, then immediately swerved left to come back into the traffic lane, carving a perfect C behind him.

Only problem was, there was a car illegally parked in the red zone on the other side of the intersection, directly in my path. So I squeezed the brakes again, tapped the rear derailleur to drop down a couple gears, swerved hard to the left, then back right to straighten, and cruised back uphill and home as if nothing had happened.

It went something like this: swerve, squeeze, swerve, swerve, squeeze, tap, swerve, swerve. And just about that fast.

Like I said, it all came together this week — and not a moment too soon.

Then I went home and had a massive iced coffee, into which I may have inadvertently spilled a wee dram of Irish Whiskey.

Of course, we won’t mention the school bus driver who decided to pass me on a curve, and nearly forced me to rear-end a parked car. Because something like that would be upsetting, and risk marring the lovely mood left by this idyllic day.

And we can’t have that, now can we?

Alex tells the story of S.M.P.D.’s hassling of Critical Mass riders, and offer’s his heartfelt opinion at the end. (Welcome back, dude – we’ve missed you.) Bike completes her car-free challenge, and offers tips for the rest of us. No Whip finishes the hardest thing he’s ever done – a 500+ mile challenge through the high desert; if I wore a hat, it would be off to you, Matt. A writer for the Times shares our rants about the lack of bike lanes in this town. And finally, the S.F. Bike Examiner lusts after a very light — and very expensive — new bike.

Rider on the swarm

 

I’ve mentioned a few times on here that I’m focused on getting back into shape after a bad riding accident last year. So maybe it’s time I told you what happened.

It was one of those perfect L.A. days. The kind people back east think we have everyday, and we hardly ever get in real life. I was just relaxing with an easy spin along the coast, when something zipped past my face. Then another…and another.

And I realized it was the leading edge of the biggest swarm of bees I’d ever seen — at least 30 feet wide, with thousands, or even tens of thousands, of bees buzzing around in every possible direction. And I was already inside it.

I had no way of knowing if they were angry or docile, and to be honest, I have no idea if I’m allergic to bees or not. But I figured this wasn’t the time to find out. So I just put my head down and pedaled as if my life depended on it. Because for all I knew, it did.

Then just as fast, I came out on the other side, thinking that I’d made out okay, when I looked down and saw that I was literally crawling with bees everywhere I could see. And I could only imagine what there was where I couldn’t see.

And then, nothing.

The next thing I knew, a lifeguard was placing an oxygen mask over my face and asking if I knew where I was.

Fortunately, I’d picked a good place to land, just a few feet from the new county lifeguard headquarters next to Will Rogers State Beach, right where they used to film Baywatch. They’d found me unconscious, off my bike and laying flat on my face, and said I’d been out at least a couple minutes.

Of course, all I wanted to do was thank them for their time, get back on my bike and finish my ride. But by then, the paramedics were there, and I was on my way to the ER at St. Johns.

I still thought I was fine. The docs in the ER thought otherwise, though. That led to a couple nights in intensive care, as a result of A) a moderate concussion, B) a bulging disc in my neck, C) a massive hematoma on my right hip, literally the size of a football, and D) major blood loss due to the hematoma. In fact, my blood pressure crashed three times that first night, dropping as low as 56 over 38 before stabilizing at around 90 over 60 — still too low, but just enough to avoid a transfusion.

So if I had gotten back on my bike to ride home, chances are, I might not have survived the night. Even if, by some miracle, I actually managed to get there. And if I hadn’t been wearing a helmet, I wouldn’t be writing this now.

They sent me home with firm instructions not to leave the house for next two weeks, and no exercise — at all — for the remainder of the year.

I remember reading in Bicycling that it takes about two weeks of rehab for every week you’re off the bike due to an injury. By that standard, I should be back where I was by the end of this month. And yes, I’m close, but I’m not there yet. I still find myself struggling at times — though I often look down and see that at least I’m struggling in a higher gear now.

And I still have no idea what really happened, though. My injuries suggest that I must have fallen hard to one side, flipped or rolled over to hit the other side, and somehow ended up doing a face plant on the asphalt. But hey, your guess is as good as mine.

For all I know, Godzilla could have risen up out of the blue Pacific and slammed me down, before slinking off to ravage Tokyo once again. Though you’d think something like that would have made the local news, at least.

I keep trying to figure it out whenever I ride past that spot, but they tell me those memories are probably gone for good. Which, all things considered, could be a good thing.

Oh, and the bees? Not one sting.

Go figure, huh?

A big thank you to the L.A. County Lifeguards, the EMTs from L.A.F.D. Station 69 in Pacific Palisades, and the ER staff at St. John’s Health Center in Santa Monica — you guys are the best. Streetsblog reviews Dodger Stadium’s new combination bike rack and smoking lounge. The Times’ Joel Stein misses the good old days of bikers on dope. And finally, Councilmember Tom LaBonge is big on bikes, as long as their riders aren’t into holiday lights.

Shocked — shocked! — I am to find bikes on the bike path

I never cease to be amazed at people who are shocked — shocked! — to discover bikes on the bike path.

Like the people who casually stroll along the bike lanes on Santa Monica’s Montana Avenue, the Marvin Braude (nee Santa Monica) bike path along the beach is inexplicably full of people who seem to have no clue that they might actually encounter bicycles as they blithely ignore the Bikes Only and No Pedestrian markings under their feet.

Just to be clear, I’m not talking the entire 22.3 mile length of the path. The upper portion along Will Rogers State Beach is usually okay, as is the lower portion through the South Bay, at least until you get to Hermosa Beach. No, I’m referring to the vastly over-populated portion from the Venice Pier north to the walkway under PCH at West Channel Road.

I’ve had a number of bizarre encounters there over the years, such as the time a toddler darted out from the parking lost directly in front of me. I jammed on my brakes and managed to come to a panic stop just inches from her.

So did the bystanders chastise her parents, for letting a small child run unsupervised like that? Or did they commend me for riding defensively, and putting the safety of a child ahead of my own?

Of course not.

Instead, I got to hear an old guy complaining about “all the damn bicycles on the bike path.” And I rode off, wondering just exactly what he expected to find there.

Then there was the woman so engrossed in her cell phone conversation that she stepped directly onto the bike path — and right in front of me — without ever looking up. So I yelled out a warning and learned hard to my left, then immediately back to the right, carving a perfect C shape right around her.

And then I made my big mistake. I stopped to make sure she was okay.

She started screaming at me — without ending her call, of course — for having the audacity to frighten her. Never mind that if she’d done the same thing on a city street, she’d probably be dead now. Or that a less experience cyclist probably would have crashed right into her, sending both of us to the ER.

No, as far as she was concerned, she was blameless and I was the bad guy, just because I tried to spare us both from serious injury.

In other words, blame bicyclists first.

Or take the large family of very large Texans I encountered near the volleyball courts awhile back. There were about 12 of them, all gathered in a group and completely blocking the entire bike path in both directions.

Eternal optimist that I am, I assumed that they would move aside to let me pass when I got close. But no, they just stared at me, their bovine expressions unchanging as they gazed at the approaching cyclist.

Polite requests to pass accomplished nothing. So finally I came to a full stop just feet in front of them and, exasperated, yelled at them to get out of the way.

That had the same effect as poking an enraged bull. The women started screaming at me and the men started moving angrily towards me. One woman, apparently the matriarch of the group, sputtered that they were from Texas, and had never encountered such rudeness.

So let’s recap, shall we? They were far from home, blocking a major pathway, preventing anyone else from passing in any direction, and ignoring every reasonable request for passage.

And I was the rude one?

Finally, some other riders approaching on the other side of the group called for them to move, as well, and slowly they gave way to either side, not unlike Moses parting the Red Sea.

And I rode off, wishing them a safe and speedy return to Texas.

Okay, so I may have left out the safe part.

Today’s must reads: Streetsblog reminds readers about tonight’s DWP meeting to discuss the annual Festival of Lights, giving us an opportunity to protest their absurd — and illegal — ban on bicycles (thanks to Alex Thompson for pointing us to section 21 of the state vehicle code). Speaking of Alex, he’s posted a beautiful reverie on racing a magical wave on Ballona Creek. The Time’s Bottleneck Blog provides the details of the proposed sales tax increase, which still lacks any provision for bicycles and pedestrians. And finally, sad news from my home town, where one rider was killed and another severely injured when they were stuck from behind by a drunk driver — at 5:20 in the morning.

We’re here. We ride. Get used to it.

Let’s go back to those Letters to the Editor we were discussing yesterday, now that the Times finally has them online. (You may have to search for the letters the paper printed on Saturday.)

The first printed letter, signed by Cecelia Grace of Los Angeles, ends with this: Motorists will respect cyclists when cyclists respect the rules of the road.

In other words, drivers don’t need to drive safely around us, because we just don’t deserve it. It’s our fault that, because of our bad behavior, they get mad and run us off the road. Isn’t that the same excuse every spouse batterer used? It’s not my fault, because you made me do it.

Or from the second letter they published on Saturday, from Lillie Reines of L.A., referring to those bad, bad people who ride for recreation: They are the ones who come steaming down the curves and cut off cars pulling out of driveways. They are the ones who encourage road rage.

Yes, she actually wrote that we encourage road rage. And the Times, for reasons that will forever escape me, actually printed it.

So let’s just make this as clear as humanly possible:

No one encourages a road rage incident, any more than they encourage a drive-by shooting.

Yes, there are rude cyclists, as well as riders who seem to feel the law does not apply to them, just as there are drivers — and pedestrians, for that matter — who demonstrate the same dangerous traits.

But no one deserves to be the victim of violence. Not drivers. Not pedestrians. And certainly not cyclists, no matter how egregiously rude or law-flaunting they may or may not be.

The simple fact is, a motor vehicle is not a weapon, nor is it an instrument of justice. It is not a tool of divine retribution or an outlet for even the most righteous anger. It is, simply, a car. A means of transportation. A way of getting from here to there.

And we are not your victims.

Cyclists may or may not deserve your respect, but you are required to give it, nonetheless. That is the agreement you make when you accept a drivers license. We are legally entitled to use the roadway, and you are legally required to let us do so, no more or less than you would any other vehicle.

And there is nothing we can do on or from the seat of a bicycle that would justify anyone using a vehicle as a weapon against any one of us, or any other human being. Nothing we may do gives you the right to kill, maim, injure or threaten us in any way.

Nothing.

So if a cyclist impedes your progress or breaks the law, call the police. It’s their job, let them deal with it.

If a rider is rude or insulting in any way, feel free to be rude in return. Give him the finger. Yell something. Or better yet, be the better man — or woman — and turn the other cheek. Just grit your teeth, go around him and get on with your life. You can tell your friends all about it later, as they nod in agreement and chime in with their own stories about all those rude and aggressive cyclists.

And we can go home to our wives, husbands, children, dogs, cats and/or goldfish.

Because, like it or not, we have a right to ride.

We have a right to the road.

We have a right to live.

And we’re not going anywhere.

 

According to yesterday’s article in the Times, anecdotal evidence suggests that more people are taking up cycling (sorry, drivers), and we need to find a way to live together. If you don’t like sharing the streets with us, it could be worse — according to the Bottleneck Blog’s Steve Hymon, we could be passing you the next time you’re stuck in gridlock on the 405. And LAist points out that those on two feet can be just as annoying as those of us on two wheels.