Tag Archive for arrogant cyclists

Today’s ride, in which I don’t inconvenience anyone

As I was riding today, I was still a little steamed about last week’s unpleasant interaction with a driver who tried to tell me off after he nearly hit me — even though I had the right of way and was riding safely.

I was also considering his anger, and my unfortunate reaction to it, in the context of the anti-cyclist comments that are all too common online — such as the recent ones on the Times’ website.

You see, to a certain segment of the driving population, we seem to be an almost evil presence on the road — something to be tolerated, at best. Or for some, to be run off the road, if possible. Whether literally or figuratively.

To those people, there are no good cyclists.

As far as they’re concerned, we’re a breed of rude, arrogant, two-wheeled law-flaunting scofflaws who block the road, don’t signal, consistently run stop lights and never, ever observe stop signs. Especially the ones they see as the ultimate, crème de la vile crème of roadway criminality — the spandex-clad racers and recreational riders.

Like me.

Of course, you don’t have to watch the road very long to notice that many, if not most, riders actually do signal, as well as stop for — and wait out — red lights, and observe stops at least as often and well as most local drivers do.

But it seems that many drivers don’t notice the countless riders they pass who ride safely; just the few who blow through lights or commit some other unforgivable act. Even if it’s something that other drivers do on a near daily basis.

So that’s what I was thinking when I was stopped at 7th on San Vicente, and another rider — also a spandex-wrapped roadie — came up behind me.

We struck up a conversation, and once the light changed, fell in together as we rode side-by-side up the hill and back down the other side.

Turned out he was a pretty a nice guy. We discussed how nice it was to be riding in 80 degree weather when people back east are digging themselves out from the latest storm. About his work in the film industry, and the prospects for yet another crippling strike. And about his avocation a racer — an expert-level mountain biker, and a CAT-4 roadie who competed in last year’s Brentwood Grand Prix.

As we rode, an interesting thing happened. As the outside rider, when something came up that posed a risk for me on the inside, he’d briefly move out into the traffic lane to give me a little more room. And when I noticed something that could force him into traffic, I slowed down just enough to let him pass before moving back up beside him.

Just two riders working together to keep each other safe, without having to exchange a single word.

And despite riding tandem for nearly two miles, up and down hill, we both stayed comfortably within the bike lane virtually the entire time, allowing traffic to pass by uninterrupted. No red lights were run, no drivers inconvenienced.

So if some drivers insist on blaming us all for the actions of a few, I guess I can live it that.

Then a little further on, I encountered another cyclist. This time, it was an older woman riding slowly as she struggled up a short, steep hill and around a sharp corner.

As I approached her, I noticed a car coming up from behind, and realized that the driver’s view of the woman was blocked — and would have no idea she was there when he rounded the corner.

So I swung out around her, taking the corner much wider than I usually would, and blocking the lane to prevent the driver from going by.

I’m not sure the woman even knew what I was doing. But once the driver rounded the corner and saw her, he seemed to understand what I was doing, and why. So I moved back to the right to let him by, and he passed both of us — very safely — with about six feet of clearance.

Just one cyclist looking out for another.

 

Illuminate LA offers a guide for reducing cycling collisions, with studies to back it up. LA Rides provides a pair of maps for riding safely between Westwood and Mar Vista. No Whip describes a 75-mile ride on and off road through the hills of L.A. Ubrayj envisions a car-free Lincoln Park. Will gets excited about volunteering for the Tour of California. Cynergy Cycles announces their Women’s Week, a week of exclusive events for female riders; too bad their website isn’t as cool as the email, which I can’t link too. The Daily News calls on the MTA to speed up its support of cyclists. And finally, Streetsblog talks about the need to reform the laws governing cycling, while Indiana is in the process of doing something about it, with the support of the local paper.

Today’s ride, in which I don’t inconvenience anyone

As I was riding today, I was still a little steamed about last week’s unpleasant interaction with a driver who tried to tell me off after he nearly hit me — even though I had the right of way and was riding safely.

I was also considering his anger, and my unfortunate reaction to it, in the context of the anti-cyclist comments that are all too common online — such as the recent ones on the Times’ website.

You see, to a certain segment of the driving population, we seem to be an almost evil presence on the road — something to be tolerated, at best. Or for some, to be run off the road, if possible. Whether literally or figuratively.

To those people, there are no good cyclists.

As far as they’re concerned, we’re a breed of rude, arrogant, two-wheeled law-flaunting scofflaws who block the road, don’t signal, consistently run stop lights and never, ever observe stop signs. Especially the ones they see as the ultimate, crème de la vile crème of roadway criminality — the spandex-clad racers and recreational riders.

Like me.

Of course, you don’t have to watch the road very long to notice that many, if not most, riders actually do signal, as well as stop for — and wait out — red lights, and observe stops at least as often and well as most local drivers do.

But it seems that many drivers don’t notice the countless riders they pass who ride safely; just the few who blow through lights or commit some other unforgivable act. Even if it’s something that other drivers do on a near daily basis.

So that’s what I was thinking when I was stopped at 7th on San Vicente, and another rider — also a spandex-wrapped roadie — came up behind me.

We struck up a conversation, and once the light changed, fell in together as we rode side-by-side up the hill and back down the other side.

Turned out he was a pretty a nice guy. We discussed how nice it was to be riding in 80 degree weather when people back east are digging themselves out from the latest storm. About his work in the film industry, and the prospects for yet another crippling strike. And about his avocation a racer — an expert-level mountain biker, and a CAT-4 roadie who competed in last year’s Brentwood Grand Prix.

As we rode, an interesting thing happened. As the outside rider, when something came up that posed a risk for me on the inside, he’d briefly move out into the traffic lane to give me a little more room. And when I noticed something that could force him into traffic, I slowed down just enough to let him pass before moving back up beside him.

Just two riders working together to keep each other safe, without having to exchange a single word.

And despite riding tandem for nearly two miles, up and down hill, we both stayed comfortably within the bike lane virtually the entire time, allowing traffic to pass by uninterrupted. No red lights were run, no drivers inconvenienced.

So if some drivers insist on blaming us all for the actions of a few, I guess I can live it that.

Then a little further on, I encountered another cyclist. This time, it was an older woman riding slowly as she struggled up a short, steep hill and around a sharp corner.

As I approached her, I noticed a car coming up from behind, and realized that the driver’s view of the woman was blocked — and would have no idea she was there when he rounded the corner.

So I swung out around her, taking the corner much wider than I usually would, and blocking the lane to prevent the driver from going by.

I’m not sure the woman even knew what I was doing. But once the driver rounded the corner and saw her, he seemed to understand what I was doing, and why. So I moved back to the right to let him by, and he passed both of us — very safely — with about six feet of clearance.

Just one cyclist looking out for another.

 

Illuminate LA offers a guide for reducing cycling collisions, with studies to back it up. LA Rides provides a pair of maps for riding safely between Westwood and Mar Vista. No Whip describes a 75-mile ride on and off road through the hills of L.A. Ubrayj envisions a car-free Lincoln Park. Will gets excited about volunteering for the Tour of California. Cynergy Cycles announces their Women’s Week, a week of exclusive events for female riders; too bad their website isn’t as cool as the email, which I can’t link too. The Daily News calls on the MTA to speed up its support of cyclists. And finally, Streetsblog talks about the need to reform the laws governing cycling, while Indiana is in the process of doing something about it, with the support of the local paper.

Today’s ride, in which I don’t inconvenience anyone

As I was riding today, I was still a little steamed about last week’s unpleasant interaction with a driver who tried to tell me off after he nearly hit me — even though I had the right of way and was riding safely.

I was also considering his anger, and my unfortunate reaction to it, in the context of the anti-cyclist comments that are all too common online — such as the recent ones on the Times’ website.

You see, to a certain segment of the driving population, we seem to be an almost evil presence on the road — something to be tolerated, at best. Or for some, to be run off the road, if possible. Whether literally or figuratively.

To those people, there are no good cyclists.

As far as they’re concerned, we’re a breed of rude, arrogant, two-wheeled law-flaunting scofflaws who block the road, don’t signal, consistently run stop lights and never, ever observe stop signs. Especially the ones they see as the ultimate, crème de la vile crème of roadway criminality — the spandex-clad racers and recreational riders.

Like me.

Of course, you don’t have to watch the road very long to notice that many, if not most, riders actually do signal, as well as stop for — and wait out — red lights, and observe stops at least as often and well as most local drivers do.

But it seems that many drivers don’t notice the countless riders they pass who ride safely; just the few who blow through lights or commit some other unforgivable act. Even if it’s something that other drivers do on a near daily basis.

So that’s what I was thinking when I was stopped at 7th on San Vicente, and another rider — also a spandex-wrapped roadie — came up behind me.

We struck up a conversation, and once the light changed, fell in together as we rode side-by-side up the hill and back down the other side.

Turned out he was a pretty a nice guy. We discussed how nice it was to be riding in 80 degree weather when people back east are digging themselves out from the latest storm. About his work in the film industry, and the prospects for yet another crippling strike. And about his avocation a racer — an expert-level mountain biker, and a CAT-4 roadie who competed in last year’s Brentwood Grand Prix.

As we rode, an interesting thing happened. As the outside rider, when something came up that posed a risk for me on the inside, he’d briefly move out into the traffic lane to give me a little more room. And when I noticed something that could force him into traffic, I slowed down just enough to let him pass before moving back up beside him.

Just two riders working together to keep each other safe, without having to exchange a single word.

And despite riding tandem for nearly two miles, up and down hill, we both stayed comfortably within the bike lane virtually the entire time, allowing traffic to pass by uninterrupted. No red lights were run, no drivers inconvenienced.

So if some drivers insist on blaming us all for the actions of a few, I guess I can live it that.

Then a little further on, I encountered another cyclist. This time, it was an older woman riding slowly as she struggled up a short, steep hill and around a sharp corner.

As I approached her, I noticed a car coming up from behind, and realized that the driver’s view of the woman was blocked — and would have no idea she was there when he rounded the corner.

So I swung out around her, taking the corner much wider than I usually would, and blocking the lane to prevent the driver from going by.

I’m not sure the woman even knew what I was doing. But once the driver rounded the corner and saw her, he seemed to understand what I was doing, and why. So I moved back to the right to let him by, and he passed both of us — very safely — with about six feet of clearance.

Just one cyclist looking out for another.

 

Illuminate LA offers a guide for reducing cycling collisions, with studies to back it up. LA Rides provides a pair of maps for riding safely between Westwood and Mar Vista. No Whip describes a 75-mile ride on and off road through the hills of L.A. Ubrayj envisions a car-free Lincoln Park. Will gets excited about volunteering for the Tour of California. Cynergy Cycles announces their Women’s Week, a week of exclusive events for female riders; too bad their website isn’t as cool as the email, which I can’t link too. The Daily News calls on the MTA to speed up its support of cyclists. And finally, Streetsblog talks about the need to reform the laws governing cycling, while Indiana is in the process of doing something about it, with the support of the local paper.

Today’s ride, in which I think like a driver.

I’d planned on taking a nice, sunny spin down the coast today. After all, this was supposed to be an easy day, since I’d ridden hills yesterday and only needed another 20 miles to meet my goal for the week.

But once I got down to Santa Monica, I found the weather wasn’t so inviting. It was cool, overcast and windy at the beach; the most un-summer-like August day I think I’ve ever seen around L.A. So rather than fight the wind, I decided to just take a quick ride along the beachfront Marvin Braude bike path — despite my rule of thumb to never ride there during on Fridays during the summer, due to the early weekend influx of tourists, kids, pedestrians and other assorted path-clogging flotsam.

To be honest, though, it wasn’t that bad. Sure, I had to dodge the occasional training-wheeled toddler weaving across the path with no parents in sight, as well as the usual clusters of tourists stopped in the middle of the path to chat or gawk at the view. And it certainly didn’t hurt my cheerful disposition knowing that I had an Old Speckled Hen on ice at home, waiting for my return.

That is, until I encountered a couple of young women walking up the bike path, despite the presence of a pedestrian walkway just a few feet away, and “bikes only” markings on the one they were walking on instead. And they were walking on the wrong side, headed straight for me, directly in my path.

Now, as anyone who has ever ridden along there knows, that’s not entirely unusual. Usually, such people will look up, see a cyclist coming, and politely move out of the way. Which is exactly what I thought these two would do.

Instead, they just kept walking directly towards me, with the same uncomprehending stare one would expect to see in a flock of sheep. But then I saw a small gap to their right and attempted to slip by, just as one of them moved in that same direction, bumping up against me and almost forcing me into the sand.

I just couldn’t help myself, and yelled out, “Other side, stupid,” as I rolled past. And immediately regretted adding the word “stupid,” although, to be fair, it was the mildest of the many words that popped into my head.

Of course, the catcalls from bystanders started immediately, including, among many other epithets, “rude” and “arrogant.” So there it was once again, as I found myself being called a rude, arrogant cyclist.

My mind reeled.

How was it that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, on a pathway build exactly for that purpose, while they were exactly where they weren’t supposed to be, doing exactly what they weren’t supposed to be doing. Yet I was the bad guy?

Suddenly, something snapped, and my mind I became a driver. Not the courteous, safe kind that actually make up the vast majority of local drivers, but the indignorant, letter-writing kind who feel perfectly justified in taking out their anger on cyclists.

So I thought, just for a moment, that I should have just ridden directly into them and knocked both women on their ass. After all, they were in my way, and so clearly they deserved it.

When the police came, I would say it was an accident, and I just didn’t see them, because they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Then I could give him a knowing look, and say “When pedestrians learn to respect the rules of bike path, then we’ll respect the rights of pedestrians.”

And I’d get away with it, too. Because drivers usually do.

But then I snapped out of it, and realized, no matter how hard I might try, I could never really be that big a jerk. And so, once again, I was just another rude, arrogant cyclist.

But for once, it really didn’t seem so bad.

 

Mack Reed writes about riding tandem with arachnids, while Will•I•Am (no, not that one) puts his bike cam to work nailing parking tards. David Byrne, ex-Talking Head, now the Dick Cheney of bike rack design. Bicycling tells us how to de-escalate conflicts between cyclists and drivers. Finally, VeloNews’ own cycling PI attorney recaps the recent road rage incidents, including the good doctor’s Mandeville Canyon brake check and biker-on-biker violence in Portland.

Today’s ride, in which I think like a driver.

I’d planned on taking a nice, sunny spin down the coast today. After all, this was supposed to be an easy day, since I’d ridden hills yesterday and only needed another 20 miles to meet my goal for the week.

But once I got down to Santa Monica, I found the weather wasn’t so inviting. It was cool, overcast and windy at the beach; the most un-summer-like August day I think I’ve ever seen around L.A. So rather than fight the wind, I decided to just take a quick ride along the beachfront Marvin Braude bike path — despite my rule of thumb to never ride there during on Fridays during the summer, due to the early weekend influx of tourists, kids, pedestrians and other assorted path-clogging flotsam.

To be honest, though, it wasn’t that bad. Sure, I had to dodge the occasional training-wheeled toddler weaving across the path with no parents in sight, as well as the usual clusters of tourists stopped in the middle of the path to chat or gawk at the view. And it certainly didn’t hurt my cheerful disposition knowing that I had an Old Speckled Hen on ice at home, waiting for my return.

That is, until I encountered a couple of young women walking up the bike path, despite the presence of a pedestrian walkway just a few feet away, and “bikes only” markings on the one they were walking on instead. And they were walking on the wrong side, headed straight for me, directly in my path.

Now, as anyone who has ever ridden along there knows, that’s not entirely unusual. Usually, such people will look up, see a cyclist coming, and politely move out of the way. Which is exactly what I thought these two would do.

Instead, they just kept walking directly towards me, with the same uncomprehending stare one would expect to see in a flock of sheep. But then I saw a small gap to their right and attempted to slip by, just as one of them moved in that same direction, bumping up against me and almost forcing me into the sand.

I just couldn’t help myself, and yelled out, “Other side, stupid,” as I rolled past. And immediately regretted adding the word “stupid,” although, to be fair, it was the mildest of the many words that popped into my head.

Of course, the catcalls from bystanders started immediately, including, among many other epithets, “rude” and “arrogant.” So there it was once again, as I found myself being called a rude, arrogant cyclist.

My mind reeled.

How was it that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, on a pathway build exactly for that purpose, while they were exactly where they weren’t supposed to be, doing exactly what they weren’t supposed to be doing. Yet I was the bad guy?

Suddenly, something snapped, and my mind I became a driver. Not the courteous, safe kind that actually make up the vast majority of local drivers, but the indignorant, letter-writing kind who feel perfectly justified in taking out their anger on cyclists.

So I thought, just for a moment, that I should have just ridden directly into them and knocked both women on their ass. After all, they were in my way, and so clearly they deserved it.

When the police came, I would say it was an accident, and I just didn’t see them, because they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Then I could give him a knowing look, and say “When pedestrians learn to respect the rules of bike path, then we’ll respect the rights of pedestrians.”

And I’d get away with it, too. Because drivers usually do.

But then I snapped out of it, and realized, no matter how hard I might try, I could never really be that big a jerk. And so, once again, I was just another rude, arrogant cyclist.

But for once, it really didn’t seem so bad.

 

Mack Reed writes about riding tandem with arachnids, while Will•I•Am (no, not that one) puts his bike cam to work nailing parking tards. David Byrne, ex-Talking Head, now the Dick Cheney of bike rack design. Bicycling tells us how to de-escalate conflicts between cyclists and drivers. Finally, VeloNews’ own cycling PI attorney recaps the recent road rage incidents, including the good doctor’s Mandeville Canyon brake check and biker-on-biker violence in Portland.

Today’s ride, in which I think like a driver.

I’d planned on taking a nice, sunny spin down the coast today. After all, this was supposed to be an easy day, since I’d ridden hills yesterday and only needed another 20 miles to meet my goal for the week.

But once I got down to Santa Monica, I found the weather wasn’t so inviting. It was cool, overcast and windy at the beach; the most un-summer-like August day I think I’ve ever seen around L.A. So rather than fight the wind, I decided to just take a quick ride along the beachfront Marvin Braude bike path — despite my rule of thumb to never ride there during on Fridays during the summer, due to the early weekend influx of tourists, kids, pedestrians and other assorted path-clogging flotsam.

To be honest, though, it wasn’t that bad. Sure, I had to dodge the occasional training-wheeled toddler weaving across the path with no parents in sight, as well as the usual clusters of tourists stopped in the middle of the path to chat or gawk at the view. And it certainly didn’t hurt my cheerful disposition knowing that I had an Old Speckled Hen on ice at home, waiting for my return.

That is, until I encountered a couple of young women walking up the bike path, despite the presence of a pedestrian walkway just a few feet away, and “bikes only” markings on the one they were walking on instead. And they were walking on the wrong side, headed straight for me, directly in my path.

Now, as anyone who has ever ridden along there knows, that’s not entirely unusual. Usually, such people will look up, see a cyclist coming, and politely move out of the way. Which is exactly what I thought these two would do.

Instead, they just kept walking directly towards me, with the same uncomprehending stare one would expect to see in a flock of sheep. But then I saw a small gap to their right and attempted to slip by, just as one of them moved in that same direction, bumping up against me and almost forcing me into the sand.

I just couldn’t help myself, and yelled out, “Other side, stupid,” as I rolled past. And immediately regretted adding the word “stupid,” although, to be fair, it was the mildest of the many words that popped into my head.

Of course, the catcalls from bystanders started immediately, including, among many other epithets, “rude” and “arrogant.” So there it was once again, as I found myself being called a rude, arrogant cyclist.

My mind reeled.

How was it that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, on a pathway build exactly for that purpose, while they were exactly where they weren’t supposed to be, doing exactly what they weren’t supposed to be doing. Yet I was the bad guy?

Suddenly, something snapped, and my mind I became a driver. Not the courteous, safe kind that actually make up the vast majority of local drivers, but the indignorant, letter-writing kind who feel perfectly justified in taking out their anger on cyclists.

So I thought, just for a moment, that I should have just ridden directly into them and knocked both women on their ass. After all, they were in my way, and so clearly they deserved it.

When the police came, I would say it was an accident, and I just didn’t see them, because they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Then I could give him a knowing look, and say “When pedestrians learn to respect the rules of bike path, then we’ll respect the rights of pedestrians.”

And I’d get away with it, too. Because drivers usually do.

But then I snapped out of it, and realized, no matter how hard I might try, I could never really be that big a jerk. And so, once again, I was just another rude, arrogant cyclist.

But for once, it really didn’t seem so bad.

 

Mack Reed writes about riding tandem with arachnids, while Will•I•Am (no, not that one) puts his bike cam to work nailing parking tards. David Byrne, ex-Talking Head, now the Dick Cheney of bike rack design. Bicycling tells us how to de-escalate conflicts between cyclists and drivers. Finally, VeloNews’ own cycling PI attorney recaps the recent road rage incidents, including the good doctor’s Mandeville Canyon brake check and biker-on-biker violence in Portland.