Publisher's Statement

The other day I was riding home in the rain. I was soaked to the bone, but relatively happy because I had a bottle of locally-distilled whiskey in my backpack, and I planned on warming myself up a with a nice drink once I changed out of my wet clothes. The fact that the cars, most of whom were passing at an unsafe distance, were dousing me with road spray and filthy puddle water didn’t phase me. It’s to be expected. Likewise, I knew better than to expect any of them to yield the right of way or to do anything that might actually help a fellow human get out of the rain any sooner. And I certainly didn’t entertain any delusions about getting respect for toughing out the storm, using sustainable transportation or anything of the sort. At risk of sounding cliché I know that as drivers and cyclists we’re from different tribes.

So imagine my reaction when as I’m crossing through a busy four way intersection, a trio of hip looking young cyclists blew through the stop sign and cut me off. No eye contact, no wave, nothing. To make matters worse, they proceeded to ride three abreast. Slowly.

Now I could excuse this sort of thing if it was a spirited group ride and I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But no, this was just completely rude. And so as I swung out over the center line I gave the trio a heaping helping of stink eye, and pedaled away without a word.

Although this was probably the most egregious incident of effrontery that I’ve encountered, I can’t say it’s the first or the last. Do we really need a formal book of city cycling etiquette? I mean, who in their right mind would get passed on a climb and then pull in front of that same cyclist at the next stoplight?

And I know cars don’t drive around giving friendly toots of their horn each time they pass another car, is it really all that difficult to acknowledge another cyclist—another member of our tribe—out there on the street? I mean, we’re all doing our best to make it from point A to point B without becoming roadkill. Shouldn’t we feel some sort of communal bond? Think about the camaraderie that fellow police, soldiers and firefighters share, even if they’ve never met each other.

I imagine that the veteran cyclists who are reading this are thinking, “It used to be that way.” I can appreciate that the cycling community is burgeoning, and this might just be growing pains. And that’s fine. But I’m not going to give up on my idealism just yet

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