Tag Archive for bicycling

Today’s post, in which I prepare to take license and piss people off.

October 7, 2008 / / 4 comments

Raise my fees. Please.

While I was otherwise occupied, both professionally and subject matter-wise, the topic of online conversation among my fellow L.A. riders turned to the sudden enforcement of the city’s long-dormant bike licensing requirement within certain police precincts.

Damien quickly picked up the story at Streetsblog, and confirmed that yes, it was true. Green LA Girl jumped in with instructions on how and where the deed could be done. Members of the Midnight Ridazz registered en masse, while Josef waxed poetic about registering his Flying Pigeon. And Will went out of his way to register his Giant roadie (I suppose if I had a Giant roadie, I’d want people to know, too.)

Which, I suppose, just leaves me.

I wasn’t shocked to find out L.A. has a bike licensing law. I’d heard rumors about it from time to time, but never could seem to find out any details. Even the cops I asked didn’t have a clue how to go about getting one. Or why anyone would bother, for that matter.

And therein lies the problem.

When the local police — who, under the law, are not only responsible for enforcement but also conducting the actual registration program — are unaware that bikes are supposed to be licensed in this town, something is seriously wrong.

As Damien points out, this is a state program; cities may or may not participate at their discretion. The stated purpose seems to be to aid in the recovery of stolen bikes by registering a description and serial number with the police.

However, the sudden selective enforcement in just some Los Angeles precincts would tend to indicate that the real purpose in bringing it up now is simply to provide the police with another tool for cracking down on unruly riders like the Ridazz.

That’s just one of my many problems with L.A.’s bike licensing program. Like the fact it’s almost impossible to comply with, for instance.

As things currently stand, there are only two places in this city of nearly 4 million people where one can actually get a license — on the campus of USC, and downtown’s Central Community Police Station, which offers the added attraction of riding your bike through skid row just to get there.

Then there’s the fact that the Central Community Station only offers licenses on Tuesdays and Thursdays, between the hours of 10 am and 8 pm. And just to make things a little harder, you have to bring the bike with you.

Seems to me the unreasonable difficulty in registration would make a damn good argument if you were ticketed for having an unregistered bike.

However, some people have said that you can register your bike by mail through the City of Santa Monica, even if you don’t live there. That’s the option I’m going to try.

The bigger problem, though, is that this program is, by and large, meaningless. With a fee of $3 — a measly $1 a year — it’s not enough to make any significant contribution to the city or state coffers, even if every cyclist in the state complied. In fact, I doubt it even covers the administrative costs of the program.

Nor is the penalty for non-compliance, which I’m told is a whopping $10, enough to compel anyone to act. And to the best of my knowledge, whatever funds are raised simply go into the general budget, rather than benefiting cycling in any way.

So I have a simple suggestion.

Raise the fee.

A buck a year is just enough to be an annoyance, without being enough to do any good. So raise it to a more significant, yet still affordable, amount. Like $10, for instance. But require that every penny raised be dedicated to funding bicycling projects — and that the money be spent in the city it comes from.

The result would be that every city in California would have anywhere from a few thousand to a few million dollars to spend on improvements that would benefit local cyclists. And that couldn’t be spent on anything else.

But it could be spent on new bike lanes, or bike lockers, or repaving crumbling bike paths, or even red light triggers — without raising taxes or draining empty city coffers. And instead of wasting our money on a mere annoyance, we’d see the actual results of our fees on the streets of our own cities, which would do a lot more to encourage compliance than any penalty would.

It could also be run through the DMV, like registering any other vehicle — they might be a pain in the ass to deal with, but at least they know how to handle vehicle registrations, unlike whatever poor cop happens to get stuck with desk duty on Tuesday or Thursday. There’s also a DMV office in virtually every city in the state, often more than one, and they have the infrastructure in place to handle renewals automatically by mail.

Or course, there are other ways to handle it.

Just like with cars, the fees could be based on the value of the bike. There’s a reasonable argument to be made that I should pay more to license my two-grand road bike than someone should pay for a $250 Flying Pigeon. Even a 1% fee would result in a still relatively reasonable $20 per year for my bike, while that Flying Pigeon would only run $2.50, and an $8000 carbon fiber miracle of modern science would cost $80 — not much more than its owner would spend on a decent racing tire.

But whatever method we choose, we need to do something.

Because the current system is simply asinine. And it’s time our money went to something that would do us some good.

 

Hardrockgrrl survives her first journey through the Block of Death. And after dark, no less. Both Gary and Green LA Girl promote Westwood’s upcoming Bike Town Beta; she also offers 9 steps for bicycle happiness, which I missed the first time around. Damien offers the next step in reclaiming the Ballona Bike Trail with the upcoming Tour de Ballona (nice graphics, too). In news from the home state, Boulder holds the LAB’s platinum rating, which my old hometown aspires to. I believe L.A.’s current rating is rusted pot metal. Bottleneck Blog’s Steve Hyman discovers a bike rack miracle in Pasadena. And finally, Will drops in on the new Heliotrope Road home of Orange 20 Bikes.

 

Category: General / Tags: , , , ,

Today’s post, in which I prepare to take license and piss people off.

October 7, 2008 / / 4 comments

Raise my fees. Please.

While I was otherwise occupied, both professionally and subject matter-wise, the topic of online conversation among my fellow L.A. riders turned to the sudden enforcement of the city’s long-dormant bike licensing requirement within certain police precincts.

Damien quickly picked up the story at Streetsblog, and confirmed that yes, it was true. Green LA Girl jumped in with instructions on how and where the deed could be done. Members of the Midnight Ridazz registered en masse, while Josef waxed poetic about registering his Flying Pigeon. And Will went out of his way to register his Giant roadie (I suppose if I had a Giant roadie, I’d want people to know, too.)

Which, I suppose, just leaves me.

I wasn’t shocked to find out L.A. has a bike licensing law. I’d heard rumors about it from time to time, but never could seem to find out any details. Even the cops I asked didn’t have a clue how to go about getting one. Or why anyone would bother, for that matter.

And therein lies the problem.

When the local police — who, under the law, are not only responsible for enforcement but also conducting the actual registration program — are unaware that bikes are supposed to be licensed in this town, something is seriously wrong.

As Damien points out, this is a state program; cities may or may not participate at their discretion. The stated purpose seems to be to aid in the recovery of stolen bikes by registering a description and serial number with the police.

However, the sudden selective enforcement in just some Los Angeles precincts would tend to indicate that the real purpose in bringing it up now is simply to provide the police with another tool for cracking down on unruly riders like the Ridazz.

That’s just one of my many problems with L.A.’s bike licensing program. Like the fact it’s almost impossible to comply with, for instance.

As things currently stand, there are only two places in this city of nearly 4 million people where one can actually get a license — on the campus of USC, and downtown’s Central Community Police Station, which offers the added attraction of riding your bike through skid row just to get there.

Then there’s the fact that the Central Community Station only offers licenses on Tuesdays and Thursdays, between the hours of 10 am and 8 pm. And just to make things a little harder, you have to bring the bike with you.

Seems to me the unreasonable difficulty in registration would make a damn good argument if you were ticketed for having an unregistered bike.

However, some people have said that you can register your bike by mail through the City of Santa Monica, even if you don’t live there. That’s the option I’m going to try.

The bigger problem, though, is that this program is, by and large, meaningless. With a fee of $3 — a measly $1 a year — it’s not enough to make any significant contribution to the city or state coffers, even if every cyclist in the state complied. In fact, I doubt it even covers the administrative costs of the program.

Nor is the penalty for non-compliance, which I’m told is a whopping $10, enough to compel anyone to act. And to the best of my knowledge, whatever funds are raised simply go into the general budget, rather than benefiting cycling in any way.

So I have a simple suggestion.

Raise the fee.

A buck a year is just enough to be an annoyance, without being enough to do any good. So raise it to a more significant, yet still affordable, amount. Like $10, for instance. But require that every penny raised be dedicated to funding bicycling projects — and that the money be spent in the city it comes from.

The result would be that every city in California would have anywhere from a few thousand to a few million dollars to spend on improvements that would benefit local cyclists. And that couldn’t be spent on anything else.

But it could be spent on new bike lanes, or bike lockers, or repaving crumbling bike paths, or even red light triggers — without raising taxes or draining empty city coffers. And instead of wasting our money on a mere annoyance, we’d see the actual results of our fees on the streets of our own cities, which would do a lot more to encourage compliance than any penalty would.

It could also be run through the DMV, like registering any other vehicle — they might be a pain in the ass to deal with, but at least they know how to handle vehicle registrations, unlike whatever poor cop happens to get stuck with desk duty on Tuesday or Thursday. There’s also a DMV office in virtually every city in the state, often more than one, and they have the infrastructure in place to handle renewals automatically by mail.

Or course, there are other ways to handle it.

Just like with cars, the fees could be based on the value of the bike. There’s a reasonable argument to be made that I should pay more to license my two-grand road bike than someone should pay for a $250 Flying Pigeon. Even a 1% fee would result in a still relatively reasonable $20 per year for my bike, while that Flying Pigeon would only run $2.50, and an $8000 carbon fiber miracle of modern science would cost $80 — not much more than its owner would spend on a decent racing tire.

But whatever method we choose, we need to do something.

Because the current system is simply asinine. And it’s time our money went to something that would do us some good.

 

Hardrockgrrl survives her first journey through the Block of Death. And after dark, no less. Both Gary and Green LA Girl promote Westwood’s upcoming Bike Town Beta; she also offers 9 steps for bicycle happiness, which I missed the first time around. Damien offers the next step in reclaiming the Ballona Bike Trail with the upcoming Tour de Ballona (nice graphics, too). In news from the home state, Boulder holds the LAB’s platinum rating, which my old hometown aspires to. I believe L.A.’s current rating is rusted pot metal. Bottleneck Blog’s Steve Hyman discovers a bike rack miracle in Pasadena. And finally, Will drops in on the new Heliotrope Road home of Orange 20 Bikes.

 

Category: General / Tags: , , , ,

Ruminating on personal responsibility, part 2

October 2, 2008 / / 2 comments

“Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame

But I know it’s my own damned fault.”

— Jimmy Buffet

 

— Bart Simpson

“I didn’t do it, nobody saw me do it, no one can prove anything.”

 

I got a nice surprise yesterday. Due to some issues at the new job (and boy, do they have some issues), I found myself with an unexpected day off. And looking out the window, I also found an unexpected, end-of-season heat wave providing near-perfect riding conditions — and a perfect opportunity to take advantage of it.

So I lubed the chain, wiped off the grit and sand from my last few rides, and took off for the coast. I thought I might take advantage of the weather by riding the entire Marvin Braude Bikeway, from my home in Westwood up to the northern end of the path at Will Rogers State Beach, then south through Santa Monica and Venice, around the Marina, and down along the South Bay section through to where it ends at Palos Verdes, and back again — 59 miles from door-to-door.

I knew I really wasn’t up to it after sitting behind a desk for the last two-plus weeks, with only one day in the saddle since mid-September. But knowing how rare days like this really are, and not knowing when I might have the opportunity again, I vowed to press ahead — knowing full well the price I was going to pay. (On the other hand, that was nothing compared to this guy’s next ride.)

And pay I did.

I spent the next three hours after my ride completely spent, stretched out on the couch, and twitching and jumping every few minutes due to the frequent leg cramps. Between an amino acid, protein, watermelon and banana shake, a couple Excedrin and lots of caffeine, the cramps finally subsided, though the aches and pains lasted through the night, keeping me awake much of the night.

But I take full responsibility. I knew exactly what I was getting into, and made a conscious decision to do it anyway.

And believe me, it was worth it.

Of course, it’s easy to assume responsibility when the only consequence is a few aches and pains. It’s much harder when there are real consequences involved.

Like my road rage incident a few years back. I had no problem at all blaming the woman who deliberately hit my with her car for refusing to share the road, and taking her anger out on me. But it took me years to accept the flat-out stupidity of flipping off the angry driver behind me.

She bears full responsibility for her actions – despite the fact that she got away with it. But I have to take responsibility for my own actions, as well.

Or take civil disobedience. From Thoreau to Saul Allinsky, civil disobedience has been recognized as a powerful tool for change. But a key component of civil disobedience is a willingness to accept the consequences of your actions — to intentionally break the law to protest its unjustness, knowing its full force will come to bear against you.

Gandhi understood that, as did Dr. King. Both were repeatedly subjected to jail, or worse. And both ultimately paid the highest possible price. But they both understood and accepted the risk, and the responsibility.

That part of the equation seems to be largely forgotten today.

At its core, Critical Mass is an act of civil disobedience. The riders routinely break traffic laws in a mass demonstration, in order to promote cycling and make bicyclists more visible and accepted, both by the public and by law enforcement.

But like any other act of civil disobedience, there can be consequences, from tickets for various traffic infractions  — both justified, and unjust — to accidents and injuries, like what happened in Seattle awhile back. Whether right or wrong, deserved or otherwise, it is an entirely foreseeable consequence. And participating means accepting responsibility for the outcome, whatever that may be.

Of course, accepting your own responsibility does not absolve the other parties, either. They are wholly responsible for their actions, just as you are for your own.

So if a cop writes you an illegal or unfair ticket, you are perfectly entitled to fight it in any way necessary, whether through the court system, the departmental disciplinary system, the city government or the court of public opinion. Or if a driver gets tired of being corked and forces his way out through the cordon of riders, he can and should be held accountable for his actions.

Will gets that.

In his recent chin-first encounter with the rear of a minivan, he took full responsibility for looking down as he climbed a hill, and not paying attention where he was riding. Yet at the same time, he held the driver responsible for double-parking in the traffic lane when there was a parking space available right next to her.

Both were equally responsible for their own actions.

Tamerlane gets it too, as evidenced by his recent posts about ethics and vulnerability.

So if you blow through a stop sign and get a ticket, it’s your own damn fault. If you run a red light when there’s traffic around, whatever happens is your responsibility – regardless of whether the drivers should have seen you or been able to stop in time.

They’re responsible for their actions, you’re responsible for yours.

And if you choose to ride without a helmet, or after dark without lights, or ride at dusk on the wrong side of the street, you have already accepted the consequences, whatever they may be. Because, by your actions, you are shifting responsibility for your safety to those around you — and they may not choose to assume it.

Or if, like me, you’ve been riding without licensing your bike — whether or not you were aware that it was even required — you are responsible for that if you happen to get stopped by the police.

As I’ve said before, the highest responsibility of any bicyclist is to ride safely; that is, to ride without causing undue risk to yourself or the people around you.

That does not necessarily mean obeying the law in every instance. It means assuming responsibility for your own safety, as well as the safety of other people who may be affected by your actions, and making the best possible choices for everyone involved. Sometimes that means stopping for the red light, and sometimes that means going through it. But whatever you do, doing it for a damn good reason.

I haven’t always done that myself, as that road rage incident, my encounter with the bees, and a few other accidents clearly indicate. But in each case, I’ve tried to learn from my mistakes, so I can make better decisions next time.

So stop and think when you get on your bike, and learn to ride safely.

Because we are each responsible for our own actions.

And we all deserve to get home in one piece.

 

A bicyclist is killed and his companion injured in Carson; Damien Newton takes the press to task for misleading reports that seem to blame cyclists. Meanwhile, Steve Hymon asks if that crack is a bike lane or the San Andreas fault, and gets an immediate response — and action — from County Supervisor Don Knobe. Must be nice to have the power of a huge regional daily behind you. And San Francisco’s Cycling Examiner parses the meaning of that octagonal red sign with the white letters.

Category: General / Tags: , , , , , , ,

Ruminating on personal responsibility, part 1

September 29, 2008 / / 2 comments

A couple years ago, my wife and I decided to break in our new passports with our first overseas trip.

Actually, we were only planning to go to the East coast, until we learned we could spend a week in London for less than a comparable amount of time in New York. (Obviously, that was when the dollar still had a little residual value compared to the pound or euro.)

I had assumed that the highlight of our trip might be the British Museum or Westminster Abbey, or maybe the day trip we’d planned to Paris on the Eurostar. But in retrospect, what stands out most was when the British people made me cry.

It happened as we toured St. Paul’s Cathedral — perhaps the most awe-inspiring edifice it has ever been my pleasure to set foot in, with the possible exception of an Anasazi kiva.

Actually, it happened twice; the first came as we wandered through the apse behind the main alter, and stumbled on the American Memorial Chapel, dedicated to the American service men and women who were based on British soil during WWII and gave their lives to help keep Britain free. And yes, it brought tears to my eyes to experience the magnificence of the gratitude expressed by the British people in this most sacred of places.

Then we wondered down through the crypts below, past markers indicating the final resting places of John Dunne, Lord Nelson, Winston Churchill, Samuel Johnson, Henry Moore, T.E. Lawrence — better known as Lawrence of Arabia — and Florence Nightingale, just to name a few.

And there, amid some of the most revered names in Western history, was the grave of William S. (Billy) Fiske — a lowly American pilot who died fighting with the Royal Air Force in the Battle of Britain, before the U.S. even joined the war. And I’m not ashamed to say that it made me cry that this man, unknown in his own country, would be remembered with reverence in such a place of honor.

And even more, that the British people would feel such a responsibility to honor those who fought shoulder-to-shoulder with them to keep their country free, and together the other Allied nations, free the world from Nazi domination.

I suppose one reason it had such an impact on me was that my own father was one of those young Yanks stationed on English soil, before joining the invasion of France in the days just after D-Day. Thankfully, he was one of the lucky ones who made it home.

Growing up, I must have asked him a million questions about the war, but he never wanted to talk about it.

Oh, he’d tell me the funny stories, like being assigned to guard a French whorehouse, as the girls kept trying to temp him to come inside. Or the time he and a few other soldiers drove through the French countryside drinking champagne from the bottle, while they tossed confiscated German grenades out of the back, one at a time — only to find out later that the front had shifted, and they’d driven the whole way behind enemy lines.

But when I asked if he’d ever shot anyone, or if anyone in his unit had been killed, he wouldn’t answer. But the tears in his eyes told me all I needed to know.

I guess I come by it naturally.

When I got a little older, I asked how anyone could justify the firebombing of Dresden or the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

He explained that when the war ended, he’d been stationed on Okinawa, preparing for the planned D-Day style invasion of Japan, an invasion in which his unit had been told to expect 100% casualties. And I realized that he owed his life — and I, my very existence — to those bombs.

He finished by saying, “We all did terrible things during the war. But we did what we had to do.”

It was then I realized, for the first time, that he had assumed personal responsibility for the things he’d had to do. And would go to his grave bearing that awful weight, and asking God’s forgiveness for the rest of his days.

And for the first time, I began to understand my father.

Contrast that with today, when it seems that no one takes responsibility for anything.

At the end of WWII, we had a president who insisted that the buck stopped on his desk, and who assumed personal responsibility for making the decision to use atomic weapons.

Today, we have an administration in which no one ever assumes responsibility, and no one is ever held accountable. Not even for a war in which no weapons of mass destruction were ever found, and no connection to 9-11 ever existed, despite what we were told. And which will leave yet another generation of service men and women carrying the scars of their service for the rest of their lives, and countless lives and families, both here and in Iraq, disrupted forever.

This follows a president who looked the American people straight in the eye, and lied about an otherwise insignificant tryst in the Oval Office.

We live in a world in which gilded CEOs can bring the national economy to its knees and escape with multi-million dollar golden parachutes. Where politicians seek political cover rather than stepping up to make the difficult choices they were elected to make. Where we’re assured that campaign donations don’t buy access. Or votes. Where a vice presidential candidate is deemed qualified for the nation’s second highest office because she can see a foreign country from her state. And plausible deniability is the watchword of the day.

A world where genuine honesty and accountability belong on the Endangered Species List.

And personal responsibility lies in the tomb next to Billy Fiske.

 

So what the hell does this have to do with bicycling?

Part two, coming soon.

Category: General / Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Today’s post, in which I nearly kill a wrong-way cyclist

September 25, 2008 / / 4 comments

Still haven’t made it back on the bike – that will come this weekend, God willing – but at least I thought I’d hit the gym after work this evening.

So I slogged my way through Westside rush hour traffic – how it can possibly take 45 minutes to drive just over 8 miles will forever be beyond my comprehension. But finally, I was just a block from the gym, making the penultimate right turn before reaching my destination.

Just as I rounded the corner, I founded myself facing a cyclist riding directly towards me on the wrong side of the road, mere feet away from a head-on collision. He’d been completely hidden from view by the parked cars on the side of the street, and was riding down the middle of the right lane, albeit in the wrong direction.

I jerked the wheel hard to the left and swerved around him, missing him by just feet. And of course, he just kept riding, as if a near-death experience was just another everyday occurrence. Which it may be, if he always rides like that. And I was only grateful that there wasn’t a car in the other lane, so I had the room to go around him, without getting hit by another car.

And there’s the problem.

Because there are people who make a habit of making other people responsible for their safety. Like this gentleman, who placed his survival in the hands of a total stranger, in this case, me. And without asking permission first, I might add.

Or the multiple riders I saw later on my way home, riding in traffic on Olympic Boulevard, after dark, with no lights or reflectors. Or helmets, for that matter.

Which meant that their continued existence on this planet depended on people they don’t know, slogging their way home from work and no doubt tired from a long, hard day. And the ability those people to spot them in the darkness, and have both the reaction time and driving skill to avoid them.

Of course, it’s not just cyclists.

You can see the same thing everyday, as skaters dart across traffic on their custom boards and pedestrians jaywalk in the middle of a block – even though there’s often a crosswalk just a few feet away – oblivious to the traffic bearing down on them. Or perhaps trusting that the drivers will stop for them.

It seems to be the same mentality shared by drivers who insist on turning left as soon as the light changes, cutting off the cars coming in the opposite direction who actually have the right-of-way. As well as the ones who weave in and out of traffic on the freeway, forcing other cars to break to avoid them.

In each case, they seem to trust that other people will see them, and take whatever action is required avoid them. Even at the risk of their own safety.

And that’s not something anyone has a right to expect. Or even ask of another human being.

Your safety is your own responsibility. As is mine. And just as it is for everyone else.

I’ll try to avoid you. Really, I will. I’ll do my best to keep you, and everyone else I encounter, safe for the few seconds we share the same few feet of roadway.

But ultimately, it’s up to each of us to take responsibility for our own safety. And not expect other people to do it for us.

Category: General / Tags: , , , ,

Today’s post, in which I nearly kill a wrong-way cyclist

September 25, 2008 / / 4 comments

Still haven’t made it back on the bike – that will come this weekend, God willing – but at least I thought I’d hit the gym after work this evening.

So I slogged my way through Westside rush hour traffic – how it can possibly take 45 minutes to drive just over 8 miles will forever be beyond my comprehension. But finally, I was just a block from the gym, making the penultimate right turn before reaching my destination.

Just as I rounded the corner, I founded myself facing a cyclist riding directly towards me on the wrong side of the road, mere feet away from a head-on collision. He’d been completely hidden from view by the parked cars on the side of the street, and was riding down the middle of the right lane, albeit in the wrong direction.

I jerked the wheel hard to the left and swerved around him, missing him by just feet. And of course, he just kept riding, as if a near-death experience was just another everyday occurrence. Which it may be, if he always rides like that. And I was only grateful that there wasn’t a car in the other lane, so I had the room to go around him, without getting hit by another car.

And there’s the problem.

Because there are people who make a habit of making other people responsible for their safety. Like this gentleman, who placed his survival in the hands of a total stranger, in this case, me. And without asking permission first, I might add.

Or the multiple riders I saw later on my way home, riding in traffic on Olympic Boulevard, after dark, with no lights or reflectors. Or helmets, for that matter.

Which meant that their continued existence on this planet depended on people they don’t know, slogging their way home from work and no doubt tired from a long, hard day. And the ability those people to spot them in the darkness, and have both the reaction time and driving skill to avoid them.

Of course, it’s not just cyclists.

You can see the same thing everyday, as skaters dart across traffic on their custom boards and pedestrians jaywalk in the middle of a block – even though there’s often a crosswalk just a few feet away – oblivious to the traffic bearing down on them. Or perhaps trusting that the drivers will stop for them.

It seems to be the same mentality shared by drivers who insist on turning left as soon as the light changes, cutting off the cars coming in the opposite direction who actually have the right-of-way. As well as the ones who weave in and out of traffic on the freeway, forcing other cars to break to avoid them.

In each case, they seem to trust that other people will see them, and take whatever action is required avoid them. Even at the risk of their own safety.

And that’s not something anyone has a right to expect. Or even ask of another human being.

Your safety is your own responsibility. As is mine. And just as it is for everyone else.

I’ll try to avoid you. Really, I will. I’ll do my best to keep you, and everyone else I encounter, safe for the few seconds we share the same few feet of roadway.

But ultimately, it’s up to each of us to take responsibility for our own safety. And not expect other people to do it for us.

Category: General / Tags: , , , ,

Today’s post, in which I nearly kill a wrong-way cyclist

September 25, 2008 / / 4 comments

Still haven’t made it back on the bike – that will come this weekend, God willing – but at least I thought I’d hit the gym after work this evening.

So I slogged my way through Westside rush hour traffic – how it can possibly take 45 minutes to drive just over 8 miles will forever be beyond my comprehension. But finally, I was just a block from the gym, making the penultimate right turn before reaching my destination.

Just as I rounded the corner, I founded myself facing a cyclist riding directly towards me on the wrong side of the road, mere feet away from a head-on collision. He’d been completely hidden from view by the parked cars on the side of the street, and was riding down the middle of the right lane, albeit in the wrong direction.

I jerked the wheel hard to the left and swerved around him, missing him by just feet. And of course, he just kept riding, as if a near-death experience was just another everyday occurrence. Which it may be, if he always rides like that. And I was only grateful that there wasn’t a car in the other lane, so I had the room to go around him, without getting hit by another car.

And there’s the problem.

Because there are people who make a habit of making other people responsible for their safety. Like this gentleman, who placed his survival in the hands of a total stranger, in this case, me. And without asking permission first, I might add.

Or the multiple riders I saw later on my way home, riding in traffic on Olympic Boulevard, after dark, with no lights or reflectors. Or helmets, for that matter.

Which meant that their continued existence on this planet depended on people they don’t know, slogging their way home from work and no doubt tired from a long, hard day. And the ability those people to spot them in the darkness, and have both the reaction time and driving skill to avoid them.

Of course, it’s not just cyclists.

You can see the same thing everyday, as skaters dart across traffic on their custom boards and pedestrians jaywalk in the middle of a block – even though there’s often a crosswalk just a few feet away – oblivious to the traffic bearing down on them. Or perhaps trusting that the drivers will stop for them.

It seems to be the same mentality shared by drivers who insist on turning left as soon as the light changes, cutting off the cars coming in the opposite direction who actually have the right-of-way. As well as the ones who weave in and out of traffic on the freeway, forcing other cars to break to avoid them.

In each case, they seem to trust that other people will see them, and take whatever action is required avoid them. Even at the risk of their own safety.

And that’s not something anyone has a right to expect. Or even ask of another human being.

Your safety is your own responsibility. As is mine. And just as it is for everyone else.

I’ll try to avoid you. Really, I will. I’ll do my best to keep you, and everyone else I encounter, safe for the few seconds we share the same few feet of roadway.

But ultimately, it’s up to each of us to take responsibility for our own safety. And not expect other people to do it for us.

Category: General / Tags: , , , ,

Cycling with a pale rider

September 15, 2008 / / One comment

I got a brief reprieve today.

I spent the last couple days of last week working at my new job. Or more precisely, not working. They weren’t really ready for me last week, so I spent two full days sitting at a desk doing nothing.

And since I would have been out on my bike if I hadn’t been stuck there, they were, in effect, paying me not to ride.

I mean, I know people hate cyclists around here, but that’s ridiculous.

Fortunately, they thought so too, and told me to take today off while they got a little more organized.

Which meant I had today unexpectedly free. And that, of course, meant I was on my bike.

For once, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, there was hardly any wind, and only a few people on the on the bike path, so I could ride as hard and as fast as I wanted, without having to slow down for pedestrians or slower riders. Well, not much, anyway.

So naturally, I enjoyed the ride.

And I thought about death.

It’s been on my mind lately, both because of what could have happened — but thankfully, didn’t — following my infamous bee encounter last year, and because we lost a couple of loved ones this year.

My mother-in-law — my wife’s stepmother — passed away this year at 96. Then we lost a good friend cancer; a beautiful, kind and loving woman who died much too soon, and yet another reason I hate cigarettes.

But the reason it was on my mind today was this post from New York’s Bike Snob. (Thanks to No whip for posting the link.)

In it, he tells of encountering a police investigation on his way to work, and later learning that a cyclist had come out on the wrong end of an encounter with a school bus. That led him to this thought:

“… As a human being you’re never really all that far from death no matter what you’re doing, but when you’re on a bicycle you’re especially close. When I’m on a bike I think of death as a membrane so thin you can’t see it because when all is going well you’re looking at it from the invisibly narrow side, not the all-encompassingly wide side. But when things go awry, and a series of decisions and coincidences sends you directly towards it, it’s all you can see. And the death membrane has extraordinary wicking properties, so sometimes all you need to do is touch it in order to wind up on the other side of it in a puff of vapor like an evaporating bead of sweat.”

As an experienced rider, I’m aware that death is always one possible outcome anytime I ride. Just as it is with any number of active outdoor sports, such as diving, mountaineering and rock climbing. And as with any other form of transportation, as last Friday’s Metrolink tragedy shows.

But unlike other forms of transportation, cyclists must share the road with cars, SUVs, trucks and buses, as well as any number of obstacles and road hazards, with no protection other than a helmet, glasses and a thin layer of padding between our legs. Which makes us particularly vulnerable.

You can’t really think about it, of course. If you did, you’d never leave the house. But it’s always there, like a silent, ephemeral riding partner. Especially in a city like this.

And if you want to avoid it, you have to be aware of it on some level.

I deal with it by saying a quick prayer anytime I get on my bike or behind the wheel of a car. I never, ever ride without a helmet. And I’m always on the lookout for anything that could pose a risk, and ready to react instantly to avoid it.

Like today, when a driver on a cross street saw that the cars were stopped on the street I was riding on, leaving just enough room for her to dart across, but never noticed — or even looked for — the cyclist coming up beside them. Fortunately, I was watching her, with my hands on the brake levers just in case she tried something stupid.

And she did. Although, despite almost hitting me, she made it quite clear that she hadn’t done anything wrong, from her exceptionally myopic point of view.

Of course, there are other cyclists who ride as if they have a death wish, zipping through red lights and stop signs without helmets, and with no regard for safety. Or common sense, for that matter.

Like the guy I saw at 7th and San Vicente today, riding on the wrong side of the road, and crossing against the light as oncoming cars jammed on their brakes to avoid him. He somehow managed to get away with, while giving no indication that he’d done anything wrong, or that he had placed himself, or anyone else, at risk. And rode off without a care in the world.

Now, I don’t want to imply that I don’t take any risks.

I do — probably more than I should. But I’ve learned what I can, and can’t, get away with. I never take a risk unless I know that I have the skill and experience to pull it off. And I never forget that there’s someone waiting for me to come home safely.

Or what could happen if I get it wrong.

That’s why I’m so adamant about creating a safe environment for cyclists, with streets and bike lanes that allow cyclists can share the roadway without unnecessary risk. And that are intelligently designed to help us get from here to there, swiftly and safely.

Because no one should ever have to risk their life just to get to work or class.

Or to enjoy an afternoon ride.

 

While I’m driving to work for the first time in over a decade, Bike Girl goes the other way, car-free for a full month. Tamerlane considers the ethics of cycling and the efficacy of infrastructure. Outdoor Urbanite sheds some light on bike lights, which I’m going to need if I ever want to try riding to work. Mikey Wally tries to make peace, and ends up getting punched and his bike stolen by some jerk — keep your eyes open for a black fixie with an unidentified jackass on the saddle. Town Mouse takes in the local leg of the Tour of Britain — amusingly, and very descriptively, as always. A San Diego cyclist encourages new riders to get out of his bike lane in today’s Times. And L.A.C.B.C is looking for people to kids’ bikes and helmets for a day, on October 11th at Santa Fe Dam.

Category: General / Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Learning the hard way

September 11, 2008 / / One comment

Gary made a good point the other day.

For all my bitching and moaning about careless, angry and/or indignorant drivers, not to mention the appalling lack of bicycling infrastructure and planning around here, riding in L.A. is usually a pretty ordinary experience. With a little care and caution, most problems can be avoided. And those that can’t usually offer a way out if you can just keep your cool long enough, or react fast enough, to find it.

Still, in all the years I’ve been riding — here in Los Angeles and around the county — I’ve only had four accidents serious enough to require medical care. And at least three of ‘em were my own damn fault.

Like my first serious accident, for instance, back when I was riding 50-miles a day in training for a planned solo cross-country ride from Denver to Key West.

It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon following a rainy morning, and I was feeling good, supremely confident in my bike and my own skill as a rider. I approached a busy intersection, paying close attention to traffic conditions; in fact, this day, I can still tell you the location of every car, truck and bump on the road, as I leaned into a sharp right turn well north of 20 m.p.h.

The only thing I didn’t see was the puddle of water directly in front of my wheel.

I was leaning so far into the turn that my knee was just inches off the ground as I hit the puddle. Both wheels instantly slid out from under me, sending me skidding across six lanes of traffic with my bike still tucked firmly between my legs. Somehow, I managed to avoid the cars — or more precisely, they managed to avoid me — and smashed into the curb on the other side with enough force to crush both wheels.

My clothes were completely shredded; my jersey was falling off my shoulders, and only a few loose threads held my shorts and protected me from a complete loss of dignity. Of course, I just wanted to get back on my bike and keep riding, nearly naked or not; a few of the drivers who’d stopped to help convinced me it would be smarter to let one of them drive me to the hospital.

I ended up with severe road rash from my ankle to my chin, along with a broken bone in my right elbow, and my sister gave me my first helmet the next day, which I’ve worn ever since. Of course, that cross-country ride was officially canceled; I ended taking a job in San Diego, instead, while I recovered from my injuries.

And I learned that nothing is more dangerous than overconfident rider.

My next accident came a few years later, as I was riding along the bike path on Coronado Island. A small boy suddenly darted across my path just feet in front of me, and I instinctively laid my bike on its side, since there was no way to stop in time.

That worked. He wasn’t hurt — terrified, maybe, but okay. And his parents couldn’t stop thanking me as I rode home more road rash and another broken bone, this time in the other elbow.

The next incident occurred right here in Los Angeles, when a driver following behind me on a quiet side street started honking her horn for me to get out of her way. She could have easily gone around me, but for some reason, it seemed more important for her to go through me.

Rather than let her jam me into the parked cars, I took the lane, which pissed her off even more — much to my satisfaction, I have to admit. I stopped at the stop sign on the next corner, then just as I started to make my turn, she gunned her engine, lurching to a stop just inches from my wheel.

And that’s when I did the stupidest, most idiotic thing I’ve ever done on a bike. Which is saying a lot, to be honest.

I stopped, turned around and looked her right in the eye, then flipped her off. The next thing I knew, her bumper was going through my back wheel, throwing me to the ground. The result was yet another broken arm, permanent vascular damage to my right calf, and a failed court case that kept me off my bike for over a year.

And teaching me the hard way that some battles just aren’t worth fighting.

Finally, there was my infamous bee encounter, exactly one year ago Friday. I’m still dealing with the last, lingering injuries. And I still don’t remember what happened.

Still, that doesn’t seem too bad for nearly 30 years of riding. Only one of those incidents involved a driver, angry or otherwise. And not a single one was caused by poor planning by anyone other than myself.

So maybe the lesson here is that safe roads and educated, courteous drivers are important.

But nothing beats a safe and careful rider.

 

Gary encounters a wrong-way rider with an attitude, while Will gives new meaning to getting doored. Outdoor Urbanite presents safety as fashion statement. Courtesy of C.I.C.L.E., we have an Introduction to Bicycle Etiquette, and a cyclist t-boning a bear. No word on any possible ursine injuries. A Petaluma writer calls for licensing cyclists, for our own good. The Feds are looking for a biking bandit. Kansas cops are cracking down on non-stop cyclists. How’s that for alliteration? And finally, my old home town is telling cyclists to dismount and don’t be that guy. Hey, I said I was sorry…

Category: General / Tags: , , , , , , ,

The attack of the silly season

September 10, 2008 / / 5 comments

Maybe there’s something in the air right now.

First, our presidential candidates waste what little campaign time they have left arguing whether lipstick belongs on a pig or a pitbull. Then closer to home, Will Campbell has a bizarre encounter with a hotrodding motorist who gives him a rare double bird, then asks if he’s a USC fan.

(I used to listen to a Louisiana band that featured an even rarer audio/visual double-bird song title. The singer would extend the middle finger of each hand, holding one upright and the other sideways, then announce “The title of this song is, ‘This is for you; this is for the horse you ride.’”)

I ran into the same sort of thing this afternoon.

You see, I wanted to get one last, good ride in, because, starting tomorrow, my 14 years of self-employment could be coming to an end. I’ll be spending the next 4 weeks working full-time in a corporate office; if everything works out, it could turn into a permanent job. That’s not really what I want, but after 8 years of Bush’s trickle-down economics, I can’t afford to get trickled on anymore.

So even though it was a cool and cloudy morning, I set out on one of my favorite rides, down Montana to Ocean, on to Main, then back up along the beach to the Palisades, and back again. And since it may be awhile before I can get another good ride in, I threw in some hills to get a good workout in, starting out with an uphill course through Westwood and UCLA, and adding a quick run up Temescal Canyon for good measure.

And other than a few minor incidents, it was a very pleasant and rewarding ride.

The first occurred when a middle-aged biking perv somehow managed to turn his head almost all the way around — sort of like Linda Blair in the Exorcist — to stare at a young woman in a tiny bikini behind him. And in the process, drifted over to the other side of the bike path, nearly hitting me head on before I managed to rouse him from his lustful reveries.

Then a little further up the bike path, I came up behind a couple of attractive women riding slowly, two abreast, in a narrow section where there wasn’t really room to pass. So I just politely held back until I saw an opening, then moved up and announced “Passing on your left.”

Now, usually when I say that, the other riders will move to their right to make room, or at least hold their course. Sometime, they’ll even thank me for telling them I’m there.

This time, the woman on the outside actually moved further to the left, blocking my path. Assuming she hadn’t heard me, I said it again, only to get a response of “We heard you!”

“So why did you move to your left?” I asked.

The response from both of them, for reasons that will forever escape me, was “Fuck off!” And suddenly, I was reminded just how ugly an otherwise attractive person can be.

I saw my opportunity to slip past, so I took it, adding a “Fuck you” as I left them behind, with a parting finger over my shoulder.

As I rode off, the one who tried to block my way yelled out, “I can catch you, you know!”

By then I was 30 yard ahead of them, on a carbon and steel road bike, while she was riding in a long dress and flip flops on a heavy single-speed coaster bike. And she thought she could catch me?

Yeah, that’ll happen.

Of course, I’m usually not one to walk — or in this case, ride — away when someone starts up with me, so my first instinct was to ride back and confront her. But then what? Was I going to beat up a couple of girls? Or just stand there and scream back and forth?

I learned a long time ago that fighting with someone who is that out of control is a no win situation. So I just kept pedaling and within a few minutes, they were out of sight, if not out of mind.

Finally, as I neared the northern end of the path, I saw a woman running with her dog, a beautiful black lab. But as I rode up along side them, I noticed that the dog was limping, his right hind leg missing every other step as he ran alongside her. So I slowed down to tell her what I’d seen.

She didn’t thank me, either.

In fact, she didn’t answer me at all. But she immediately stopped running and got down on one knee to attend to her dog, while I continued on with my ride.

And that was exactly what she should have done. Because it wasn’t about me, or her; it was about making sure the dog was okay.

With that, the bizarre confrontation with the other women was forgotten, and the natural order of the universe seemed to be restored. And I rode home, fully enjoying one last, good ride through the Westside.

 

Streetsblog notes the state legislature has passed the Complete Streets Act, requiring that all users — including pedestrians and cyclists — must be give equal consideration in any new road project. A Florida County is overcome with rationality, rejecting a speed limit for bikes. The League of American Bicyclists ranks the states for bicycle friendliness; California inexplicably comes in at #7. Maybe things are better up in NorCal. The cycling lawyer asks why drivers are turning into the Hulk this year, while Science Daily notes the more people who ride bike, the less likely they are to be injured. Kinda the theory behind Critical Mass, no? Mikey Wally reports on 37 cyclists detained over a shoplifting incident, and offers an effective way to keep riders from drafting. And finally, China’s Flying Pigeon takes roost on Figueroa St.

Category: General / Tags: , , , , , , ,
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