Tag Archive for bicycling

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.

What is it with Montana? (And no, I don’t mean Hannah.)

Well, it happened again.

I decided to take Montana back home through Santa Monica at the end of my morning ride. (I know. I know. I usually take San Vicente, but every now and then it’s fun to see celebutants in their native habitat.)

So I’m hammering uphill, an unbroken string of parked cars on my right, and an unbroken line of traffic on my left. And directly in front of me is a young couple, casually sauntering along the bike lane.

Naturally, I assume that they’ve just existed a car — though why both would exit on the left is beyond me — and will soon make their way to the sidewalk. But no, they just continue to stroll along the bike lane, turning it into their own personal walkway and passing up several opportunities to move out of the road.

Finally, there’s nowhere for me to go, so I urge them — as politely as possible under the circumstances — to get out of the way.

Their response?

“Fuck you.”

And there’s the problem.

I mean, I can understand the attitude of outlaw bikers. No, really, I can. Because even when we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, doing exactly what we’re supposed to do, there’s a sizable segment of the local population that looks at us and says, “fuck you.”

 

 

Once again, the Croix de Fer and Alpe d’Huez separate the men from the boys, but Saturday’s time trial is looking big. And why can’t Versus manage to cram in just a little more racing in between the commercials? Evidently, right-wing columnists do more than just out covert CIA agents, but they need a cyclist to tell them what they’ve just done. Last chance to sign a letter urging the Metro Board to do the right thing, and fund projects to help keep cyclists and pedestrians safe and alive. Outdoor Urbanite reports on a fat tire fork perfect for riding the Forest of Endor. And after a hard ride on Thursday, I plan to celebrate the holiday with a nice Chamucos Reposado.

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.

 

Socially conscious commuters? Or law-flaunting demons from hell?

There’s an intersection in front of my building with a 4-way stop. You don’t have to stand there very long to note that most cars passing through fail to come to anything near a complete stop; many go right through without even slowing down, as if the stop sign wasn’t there. Or as if standard traffic laws don’t apply to them.

And don’t get me started on turn signals. The drivers who actually signal their intentions, at this or any other Los Angeles intersection, sometimes seem rare enough to be the exception, rather than the rule.

Based on those observations, I could assume that everyone behind the wheel in Los Angeles is a bad driver.

I know that’s not true, though. I’m a driver myself — one who actually takes the time to observe stop signs and use his turn signals. And everyday, I see other people driving courteously and carefully; they’re just not the ones who stand out.

Or any time I’m out on Santa Monica Blvd, it’s almost a given that I’ll see someone in an expensive sports car — or driving like he wishes he had one — weaving dangerously in and out of traffic at speeds far above the posted limit. That could lead me to assume that all drivers of high-performance vehicles speed and drive recklessly; yet, again, I often see Porsches, Ferraris, Vantages and other high-powered vehicles driven as placidly as a soccer mom’s minivan.

So why do so many people in this town think that all bicyclists are alike?

You see it all the time in the comments that follow virtually any online post about bicycling, such as the comments on the Times website concerning the good  doctor’s Mandeville Canyon brake test, or on bulletin boards such as  Craigslist, like this comment.  Or you could have seen it again in the Times’ Letters to the Editor on Saturday, in response to the paper’s editorial urging drivers to stop harassing cyclists. (Inexplicably, the Times has posted letters from everyday except Saturday on their site; I’m including the link on the off chance that they might rectify their oversight.)

Bicyclists are aggressive. They flaunt the law. They (gasp!) ride two or more abreast.

Take this excerpt from one of Saturday’s letters: Cyclists are insistent about their right to equal use of the road (ed: actually, the California vehicle code is insistent on that), but they couldn’t care less about following the rules of the road. Only the privileges apply to them, not the responsibilities.

Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. The biking community includes everyone from casual beach cruisers to off roaders to fixies to road racers, with a multitude of attitudes and riding styles in between. Some flaunt the law, others — I dare say, most — observe it to varying degrees.

Others carve out an exemption of one sort or another from the greater mass of evil riders, such as the next writer, who distinguishes from those “going green” and riding for transportation purposes, and other riders simply out for recreation. Of course, in her eyes, the “green” riders are the ones who observe riding etiquette, while the “pleasure riders” are the ones who “encourage road rage.” (Ed: more on that tomorrow.)

Isn’t it just possible, however, that some cyclists ride for both pleasure and transportation? Couldn’t someone commute on two wheels during the week, then don spandex before hitting the road for pleasure on the weekends?

As I’ve noted before, I try to ride safely and courteously, stopping for stop signs and red lights, and giving drivers room to pass whenever possible. And from what I’ve seen on the road, I’m not the only one. I often find myself striking up a conversation with other riders waiting patiently for the light to change — including, on occasion, members of professional racing teams in town for one reason or another.

Sure, there are rude and dangerous riders out there, just as there are rude and dangerous drivers. And they aren’t all high-speed roadies; I’ve seen as many — if not more — casual riders blow through red lights as I have those on high-end racing bikes. But my own personal experience tells me they are the exceptions, rather than the rule.

Judging from comments like these, though, there seem to be a number of people here in the City of Fallen Angels who assume we all have 666 birthmarks hidden somewhere under our spandex.

 

The Times discusses rage-less road sharing today, Westside Bikeside! recounts the comments of a clueless councilman in neighboring Santa Monica, and Streetsblog talks with an expert on remorseless, horn-blaring sociopaths.

Blame bikers first

Normally, I try to avoid try to avoid the Santa Monica and Venice sections of the Marvin Braude bike path, aka Santa Monica bike path, this time of year. But I got out a little earlier than usual yesterday, so I thought I’d try to squeeze in a quick ride along the beach before it to got too late and the path became overrun with tourists and pedestrians.

And it was, for the most part, a pleasant experience. I did my best to ride safely and courteously, keeping my speed down and waiting behind slower riders until it was safe to pass, and announcing to the assorted riders, skaters, walkers, shopping cart jockeys, et al, that I was passing whenever appropriate.

Of course, there was that one incident. As there usually is.

A couple of surfers stepped out onto the path, without looking, maybe 10 feet in front of me, their surf boards parallel to the ground and blocking most of the path. So I yelled out a warning, then swung quickly to the left and immediately back to the right, avoiding them safely so we could all continue enjoying our day.

And that was when I heard a woman on my right yelling something about “aggressive cyclists.”

Of course, there was no way she could have seen what had just happened, so it was clear that she had just heard my warning, and immediately went into the ever popular Blame Bicyclists First mode.

Which left me to wonder just what it was that I had done wrong. Was that I warned them to avoid an accident? Or simply that I had the audacity to actually ride a bicycle on the bike path?

Or was it the mere fact of my spandex clad existence?

Of course, this sort of thing is nothing new. A few weeks ago, I was riding along a busy street with heavy traffic buzzing past my shoulder, when I saw a couple of young women standing in the middle of the bike lane up ahead as they waited to cross the street (illegally, of course).

They continued to just stand there as I approached, blocking my path as they gazed mindlessly at the cyclist bearing down on them. Finally, I yelled for them to get out of the way; their response, as their feet stood firmly planted in the bike lane in front of me, was “Fuck you.”

My only option was to jam on my brakes, coming to a stop just feet in front them. Which lead to a argument, of course. And sure enough, within a few moments, one of the local shop owners — who had no idea what had started the argument — came out and threatened to call the police and have me arrested.

Why? Because I’m a cyclist. And as we all know, cyclists are evil.

Which leads to this: last night’s public meeting to discuss the problems in Mandeville Canyon was cancelled, replaced by the first meeting of a task force to discuss the issue. (LAist has also posted a new video from Dual Chase productions on how to ride the canyon safely.)

Meanwhile, a group of bike and pedestrian advocates are collecting signatures to request that a mere 2 percent of Metro’s planned 1/2 cent sales tax increase be allocated for bike and pedestrian issues — that’s just 1% each to help keep bikers and pedestrians safe and alive.

And councilman Bill Rosendahl, who is rapidly turning into the biking community’s best friend, continues to support the Cyclists’ Bill of Rights, and is calling for a larger discussion of the issues confronting bicyclists and drivers throughout the city later this year.

If you ask me, that can’t happen soon enough.

 

Let’s live to fight another day

Kudos to the Los Angeles Times for having the good taste to quote your truly in a recent online article about the ongoing war between L.A. drivers and cyclists. By my calculation, this means I should have roughly 12 minutes and 37 seconds of fame remaining.

Frankly, when I started this blog a few weeks back, I really didn’t know where I was planning to go with it. But I certainly didn’t think expect to be dealing with the sort of topics we have this week.

In nearly 30 years as a serious biker, I’ve ridden all across the country, from backwater bayous and Colorado canyons to high-speed highways and crowded city streets. But I can honestly say this City of Fallen Angels is the only place I’ve ever been afraid to ride.

It didn’t take long to learn that most local roads have no shoulders, forcing you into traffic lanes with drivers who routinely ignore the speed limit, turning 35 mph boulevards in 50+ mph freeways. That what little bike lane system we do enjoy starts and stops at random, in what could only be an attempt to thin the herd. That local drivers have no patience for bicyclists, and won’t share the road if it means a few seconds of inconvenience. And that the local police usually operate from a policy of blame the cyclist first.

The simple fact is, even the most careless or aggressive cyclists represent little more than a minor annoyance to most drivers, easily passed and quickly forgotten.

Yet for us riders, it’s a different matter entirely. For us, cars represent potentially lethal weapons, fully locked and loaded, and, too often, pointed directly at us. Unlike the driver, we have no seat belts or airbags — let alone a few tons of steel — to protect us. So even in a minor collision can be, quite literally, a matter of life and death.

Like Stoehr and Peterson, we’ve all been confronted with angry motorists — though in most cases, not so extreme as the good doctor, who it turns out may have done this before. I dealt with mine by signaling for my next turn with just one finger extended, which got my rear wheel intimately acquainted with the chrome bumper behind it, and got me 4 weeks in a sling followed by 6 weeks of rehab.

So I’ve learned my lesson. Now when I’m confronted with an angry driver, I just pull to the right, stop my bike, and let them pass. Because I may have a legal right to the road, but it’s not worth defending my rights if it means my wife is going to get another call saying which Emergency Room she can find me in.

A Cyclists’ Bill of Rights would certainly help. But so does a strong self-preservation instinct, and enough sense to know which battles are winnable.

And car vs. bike isn’t one of them.

Call your publicist. Because we have an image problem.

We all know that bicyclists are nice people. Well, most of us, anyway.

We’ll stop to help a fallen cyclist, or a total stranger. We’ll give directions to lost tourists, and hand our last good tube over to some schmuck who forgot to pack a patch kit. We’ll wave to let a driver know it’s safe to pass, or thank one for giving us the right of way. And the first aid kit I keep in my seat bag has been used more on people I don’t know than on people I do. Or on myself, for that matter.

But we have a real problem. Because that’s not how the world sees us.

On July 9th, Illuminate LA featured an excellent recap of how the local bike community sprang into action following the July 4th Mandeville Canyon incident. But what caught my attention was the comment that followed from the author of SoapBoxLA.

He tallied the number of anti-bike comments expressed on the LA Times Bottleneck Blog article about the road rage incident on the 4th.  And let me tell you, it’s not pretty. Just a few samples:

  • Cyclists break the law (27)
  • Cyclists are arrogant, have feelings of entitlement (27)
  • Cyclists should not be on the road; the road is for vehicles only (23)
  • …If a vehicle/bike altercation happens, the cyclist must be at fault in some way (12)
  • …Cyclists incite harassment from vehicles by not following the law (8)

And my personal favorite:

  • Cars are bigger and therefore have more rights (1)

That, my friends, is how we’re perceived right here in the City of Fallen Angels. Don’t believe it? Just go to the local Rants & Raves section on Craiglist, and post a comment about bicycling. Any comment. Then see how long it takes before the hate posts and death threats start stacking up in response. (Granted, CL isn’t exactly a hotbed of credibility; the RnR section has long gotten my vote as the most racist place in cyberspace.)

The point is, we’ve got a problem. And we’re the only ones who can do something about it.

As my loyal reader (notice I didn’t include the phrase, “one of”) — Pops commented on earlier post, bicyclists need to do a better job of p-r if we’re going to make any headway in the traffic world.

And we need to do it fast. Because as the Mandeville incident illustrates, your life — or mine — could depend on it.

The few. The proud. The obnoxious.

Not surprisingly, the 4th of July incident in Mandeville Canyon was one of the main topics of conversation on Craigslist yesterday. Or at least it started out that way, before quickly devolving into the usual hate rants and death threats that typically characterize CL’s Lord of the Flies mentality.

One of the more rational posts — okay, one of the few — took riders to task for failing to ride safely. He (she?) gave the example of San Vicente Blvd., the Westside’s bicycle highway to the sea, ranting about “pretentious assholes” who insist on riding in traffic lanes despite the presence of a bike lane virtually the entire way.

Problem is, he’s got a point.

We’ve all seen them.  While the vast majority of us are happy to ride safely and courteously, there are always a few who seem to feel that traffic laws and the mores of a civil society — let alone common sense — don’t apply to them.

Like the guy I saw on San Vicente awhile back, who insisted on riding in the left lane the entire way down the hill. And then proceeded to blow through the red light at the bottom, despite the fact that he had to pass between cars crossing from the other direction. Without a helmet, of course.

Or the idiot I saw drafting a few feet behind a city bus through downtown Santa Monica. Of course, as buses usually do sooner or later, it came to a sudden stop — forcing him to dart into the other traffic lane without warning, and nearly causing a chain reaction collision as drivers braked to avoid him. (This is the same jerk who used to try to draft on me on the way up San Vicente, without ever taking a pull himself, let alone saying thank you. Or even hello, for that matter.)

The point is, riders like these are the exception. But they’re the ones most drivers notice, just like we notice the one or two drivers who cut us off or pass too close, rather than the countless cars that passed us safely or waved us through the intersection. And then they assume that we all ride that way.

It’s not true, of course.

It does tend to be a self-correcting problem, though. Because no one who rides like that rides that way very long.

But it leaves the rest of us dealing with an image we don’t deserve. And angry drivers who blame us for problems we didn’t create.

Road rage against the machine

Here’s the problem with biking in L.A. Okay, one of ’em, anyway.

This is a city where the car is God, and any heretic who gets in its path is taking his life in his hands. Sure, the law gives us a right to the road. But that only extends as far as the bumper of the cars around us.

L.A. is a town full of angry drivers, already upset about slogging their way through heavy traffic and steaming about the last driver(s) who cut them off — let alone the high cost of fueling their Hummers. And when they find there route momentarily slowed by people shrink-wrapped in ridiculous spandex outfits, that rage often boils over.

Latest case in point: the recent 4th of July incident in Mandeville Canyon, in which two local riders were intentionally injured by a driver who sped around them, then slammed on the brakes just feet in front of their wheels. As you might expect, both riders were badly injured, one eating the pavement after clipping the car’s fender, while the other did a face plant in the rear windshield, nearly losing his nose in the process. The driver — a doctor, no less — just stood there screaming at the injured riders and refusing to offer any medical care to the people he injured.

At least this time, the local gendarmes made an arrest.

We’ve all been there. Anyone who’s spent a significant amount of time riding the mean streets of the misnamed City of Angels has their own stories to tell of drivers who’ve intentionally doored, dinged or otherwise dusted them in some fashion. But very few of us can tell a story of the L.A.P.D. actually doing something about it.

Like there was the time some gang bangers knocked me off my bike in Venice and circled around me as I lay on the pavement. Lo and behold, I looked up and just a few feet away stood an L.A. cop. I yelled for help and the gangsters took off running — right past the officer, who stood there watching them run. So I yelled again for the cop to stop them because they had just attacked me, and I swear to God, he looked at me and said “So what do you want me to do about it?”

His job would have been nice. But I suppose what was too much to expect.

Then there was the time a driver got pissed off that I was impeding her progress on an otherwise empty street, and couldn’t be bothered to go a few feet out of her way to pass me. Instead, she followed me for about a block, honking and screaming the whole way. When I got to the stop sign at the next corner, I turned around for a moment to look at her, then signaled for my right turn (granted, I only extended one finger, but still…).

Next thing I knew, her bumper was in my back wheel and I was on the pavement. Once I gathered my wits, I blocked her path so she couldn’t leave, whipped out my cell and dialed 911. A crowd gathered. Helicopters circled. The police, finally, arrived.

Yet when the dust cleared, the local constabulary did absolutely…nothing. They accepted her contention that I had simply fallen over — from a dead stop, no less — injuring myself and causing the damage to my bike.

And instead of taking her into custody — or even writing a ticket, for chrissake — I was threatened with arrest for A) making a false 911 call and B) threatening her life; somehow, my comments of “You tried to kill me,” got twisted into “I’m going to kill you.”

Why I would want to kill a total stranger if I had simply fallen over on my own was never explained to me.

So, I may not be a rocket scientist, but I’ve learned my lesson. No more fingers. When confronted with an angry driver, just stop and let him or her pass.

And never, ever count on the L.A.P.D.

So here’s the problem.

Here’s the problem with bicycling in L.A. (Okay, one of the problems.) Unlike other places I’ve lived, there’s really no great place to ride here.

What should be L.A.’s crown jewel – the beachfront bike path that runs from Will Rogers State Beach in Pacific Palisades down past Redondo Beach – is so clogged with pedestrians and drunken tourists (is that redundant?) that it’s almost impassible at times. The lower section, below the marina, is usually better. But the upper section, through Santa Monica and Venice, is so bad that it’s not even worth riding if you can’t get there before noon. And most riders just avoid it entirely from Memorial Day and Labor Day.

Even if you wanted to ride it, the problem is getting there.

Some people try riding the major streets like Santa Monica, Wilshire or Olympic Boulevards, which is akin to playing Russian Roulette with five live rounds.

The Ballona Creek bike trail, which runs from Culver City all the way to the coast, should be a freeway for the velo crowd. But the need to swerve around all the homeless encampments and drunks passed out in your pathway kind of limits its ride-ability. As does the fact that it runs through some of the most dangerous, crime and gang-infested neighborhoods in the city. (Evidently, I’m not the only one to notice this sort of problem.) So if a nice young man with facial tattoos stops to admire your bike, I’d suggest giving it to him. Seriously.

You can get to the beach by taking the bike lanes on Colorado, if you don’t mind stopping every few blocks and dodging buses once you get below 4th. Or you can try avoiding all the oblivious drivers with their surgically attached cell phones on Montana.

But the best, and most popular, route to the coast is the bike lanes along San Vicente Blvd. Unlike most of L.A., the drivers on San Vicente are used to seeing bicyclists, so they usually drive safely, and there are no stops signs, and only two stop lights, giving you a safe, fast ride. But even here you can have problems, like when a construction or film crew takes over the bike lane for no apparent reason, forcing you to compete with drivers for the limited space remaining in the traffic lanes.

And don’t even get me started on riding PCH through Malibu.

Sure, it’s flat and scenic, making it one of the area’s most popular rides. But with narrow – or sometimes no – shoulders on the road, high speed traffic, countless cars turning right in or out of driveways, and frequent construction sites that force riders into traffic lanes – which resulted in the death of two riders a couple years ago – it’s often more demolition derby than relaxing ride.

Sure, I used to ride it anyway, like everyone else. But these days, my wife insists that I come home in one piece.

Go figure.