Biking
- It's more dangerous. People pulling out of driveways don't look at who is coming down the sidewalk. Try this sometime and you'll see what I mean. You probably don't look either.
- It's more dangerous. Sidewalks are for walking. I think that's why they're called sidewalks. (See that word "walk" in there?) Which means that they're not engineered for biking. Telephone poles and guy wires and signposts for motorists jut out of and across sidewalks all over town, making it easy for anyone going at a decent pace to get knocked off their bikes.
- It's much slower. Bicyclists on the sidewalk must stop at every intersection, even if there isn't a stop sign. At every intersection. Ride a bike to work tomorrow and stop completely every few hundred yards if you don't get my point. You will get it very quickly.
- In some cases it's illegal. For instance, in downtown Sioux Falls. This is because
- It's more dangerous. Small children are on the sidewalk. People walking dogs are on the sidewalk. Wheelchairs and strollers are on the sidewalk. People leave things on the sidewalks.
- Also, it's more dangerous. Many sidewalks simply aren't maintained for biking. Branches are not trimmed well, and if the concrete joints aren't level, they can ruin a wheel.
- Bicycles cause almost no road wear, so we save the city from having to pay for the damage that heavy cars quickly cause;
- Bicycles use no fossil fuels, at least not directly, so we don't increase dependence on foreign oil. We're patriots like that. If you like enriching OPEC, I guess that's your right, but I don't quite get it;
- Bicycling is better for my health, which means that I am probably decreasing everyone's health care costs and staying healthy and productive.
- Bicycling is also better for your health, because bikes don't pollute. So that clean air you;re breathing? You're welcome;
- Bicycles take up less space on the road and in parking lots, which means the road is less congested, and you get a better parking spot. Again, you're welcome.
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Bluejay Linings
"Well, look at the silver lining!"
An accident two years ago left me with some injuries that occasionally keep me from doing what I would like to do. I shouldn't complain; my life's pretty good. But even little pains seem to draw all my attention. If my whole body is fine but I've got a blister on my small toe, I can forget the beautiful landscape I'm in and focus instead on the blister, or on the hiking boots that rubbed too much while I climbed a once-in-a-lifetime mountain. A splinter in my finger gets more of my attention than my wife's hand in mine does. Even small pain can keep my mind from noticing great loveliness.
Occasionally, my injuries keep me from being able to drive. When I cannot drive I rely on bicycling, and then I see much more clearly how much my city has been shaped by the automobile. We have very few taxis, and not much by way of public transit. Our city is in a place where land is cheap and abundant, and the sprawling grid of streets and of wide green lawns is a response to the availability of land: it's not a walking city, it's a city for driving. There are some nice bike trails, but they're mostly an afterthought that are designed for recreation and not for transportation. Here in Sioux Falls, the private car rules the road.
I own several cars, and my cars are also a response to the land here, and to its weather. The open prairie can get very cold in winter, and very hot in the summer. In my lifetime, automobiles have become better and better at insulating me from the extremes of weather. I can drive a thousand miles without feeling the air other than when I stop for rest or fuel. This usually seems like an advantage. Sometimes I wish I could talk with other drivers, but we are insulated from one another, too.
A few days ago someone told me that having to rely on my bicycle is a gift, an advantage. "Look at the silver linings," they said. When you bike, you get exercise! I think they meant to console me, and I'm sure I've said the same kind of thing to others, hoping to boost their spirits by pointing out that things could be worse. And I'll probably wind up doing it again in my lifetime. It's so easy to feel insulated from others' pain, and so hard to know the effects of our words on others. Argh. If I've done that to you, I'm sorry.
*****
Last January, as I walked through the forest of Petén, Guatemala with my students, I kept saying to them the last three lines from Gary Snyder's poem, "For the Children." Those lines form a sort of haiku at the end of a longer poem:
stay together
learn the flowers
go light
I keep returning to that poem. Some of the hills are hard to climb, and I know that some of them will give me blisters. Others...well, someday those once-in-a-lifetime mountains will be climbable only in my memory.
For now, I'm trying not to let the well-intended words about "silver linings" rub me the wrong way, and to take them in the spirit they're offered in. They may be awkward, but they're meant to help.
From my three-wheeled vélo, uninsulated from the weather, I find I am also exposed to the sound of the birds. I haven't learned all the flowers yet, and I'm still working on the birdsongs, but I know many of their voices. In the last month I've learned where the bluejays live in my neighborhood. I didn't know we had bluejays near my house. I've seen them in our city, but only rarely. Now I've found two pair, and I'm starting to figure out which are their favorite trees. As I roll along quietly on my recumbent trike, the birds let me coast past them, eyeing me perhaps, as I listen for them high in the treetops of this prairie town.
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Bicycles Belong On The Road
Road Rage
As I've shared yesterday's story about the Sioux Falls driver who assaulted a bicyclist, other bicyclists I know have shared similar stories. It seems all the serious riders I know have had run-ins with motorists who refuse to acknowledge their right to the road.
Many of us are fast enough that we come pretty close to riding at the speed limit, so we're not really slowing things down. Most of our major streets in Sioux Falls are wide enough to permit sharing the lane - giving motorists enough room to obey the three-foot buffer mandated by city law.
Should we bike on the sidewalk? No!
But even slow cyclists have a right to the roads. Drivers sometimes tell me to bike on the sidewalk. If they weren't driving away so fast, I'd take the time to let them know what a stupid idea that is.
If you're one of those drivers who wonders why I'm not on the sidewalk, here's why:
So not only do we have the legal right to be on the road and to occupy the lane, as you can see, biking is our best option.
And no, driving is not our best option. I will admit that if you're driving a car that weighs several tons, you're safer than I am when I'm straddling a twenty-pound aluminum frame. But what I'm doing is better for all of us, even for you. Think about it:
You and I have the right to drive on public roads maintained at public expense because we all agree it is worth paying for, and the laws make it possible and safe. Those same laws, and that same public opinion, supports the right of bicyclists to use those same roads.
As I've shared yesterday's story about the Sioux Falls driver who assaulted a bicyclist, other bicyclists I know have shared similar stories. It seems all the serious riders I know have had run-ins with motorists who refuse to acknowledge their right to the road.
Many of us are fast enough that we come pretty close to riding at the speed limit, so we're not really slowing things down. Most of our major streets in Sioux Falls are wide enough to permit sharing the lane - giving motorists enough room to obey the three-foot buffer mandated by city law.
Should we bike on the sidewalk? No!
But even slow cyclists have a right to the roads. Drivers sometimes tell me to bike on the sidewalk. If they weren't driving away so fast, I'd take the time to let them know what a stupid idea that is.
If you're one of those drivers who wonders why I'm not on the sidewalk, here's why:
So not only do we have the legal right to be on the road and to occupy the lane, as you can see, biking is our best option.
And no, driving is not our best option. I will admit that if you're driving a car that weighs several tons, you're safer than I am when I'm straddling a twenty-pound aluminum frame. But what I'm doing is better for all of us, even for you. Think about it:
You and I have the right to drive on public roads maintained at public expense because we all agree it is worth paying for, and the laws make it possible and safe. Those same laws, and that same public opinion, supports the right of bicyclists to use those same roads.
*****
I'm not a member yet, but I've just discovered this organization, Falls Area Bicyclists. They look like they're up to some good work in our town. More bikes=better city.
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Bicycles, Handguns, and Cameras
Get Off My Hood!
I just read a post on Facebook about a bicyclist in my town who was struck by someone driving a pickup truck. The driver then yelled at the bicyclist to "get the f*** off my hood" and told him to ride on the sidewalk. The driver is obviously misinformed about our laws, as well as about civility.
The bicyclist managed to take a picture of the driver's face and his truck, but not his license plate, which is too bad.
Packing Heat On Two Wheels
The comments under the photo were especially interesting. I'm not sure if he was joking, but the bicyclist (whom I do not know) said that he often bikes with a .45 in his waistband, which dissuades drivers from treating him with hostility. This time he only had his camera, and he wasn't able to shoot pictures fast enough to capture all the evidence the police would need.
I understand his frustration. Last summer, while biking on an empty street five lanes wide, a motorist sped up behind me, swerved into my lane (I was biking along the shoulder) and yelled at me to "Get on the sidewalk!" then sped off. By the time I had my phone out, he was too far away to get a picture of his license plate. He sped off uphill, making it impossible for me to chase him down.
His recklessness and utter selfishness could have maimed or even killed me had I not safely dodged his oncoming car. His cowardice and lack of regard for my life made me livid.
You Better Outrun My Bullet
But I do not see how a gun would have helped me. Yes, perhaps he would have seen a gun in my waistband, but at his speed he very well might not have seen it. And what would I do with it? I'm not going to start squeezing off rounds at a fleeing motorist; to do so would make me a worse criminal than he. Besides, I was in no state to be handling a weapon: my heart was pounding, adrenaline was shooting through my veins. I was angry, and I was feeling that fright that comes when sudden and severe peril suddenly interrupts a calm day.
I don't want my world to be under constant surveillance, but I'm considering getting a GoPro or some other video camera that would run constantly when I bike on the street. I think if more of us did that, it would be a more effective deterrent than a firearm.
We're In This Together
More importantly, carrying a camera rather than a gun says something about community. The gun is about taking personal charge of one's security, and while I applaud the individual responsibility that implies, the camera insists that reckless driving is not my problem but our problem, a problem that we will deal with as a community, through the structures of law that constitute our community. If you harass bicyclists, I will film it, and I will hand the evidence over to the police.
This is what it means to live in a society that respects the rule of law. We don't live in the time of Euthyphro, who needed to enforce the law himself. We live in the age of the District Attorney; and whatever you may say about an individual D.A., the point of a state-appointed prosecutor is just this: she is the embodiment of our belief that to offend against one of us is to offend against all of us. We are in this together.
I don't want to foster hostility between motorists and cyclists; I want to foster mutual respect. The roads are wide enough to share. If we can learn to do so, we'll all wind up reaching good destinations, together.
*****
Update: Here's a link to an article by Jill Callison about the confrontation between the cyclist and the motorist in the Sioux Falls Argus Leader.
*****
Further Update: Here's a link to a bit of good news: the driver has been charged with several misdemeanors. This is good news for bicyclists, and bad news for hotheaded drivers unwilling to share the road with their neighbors.
I just read a post on Facebook about a bicyclist in my town who was struck by someone driving a pickup truck. The driver then yelled at the bicyclist to "get the f*** off my hood" and told him to ride on the sidewalk. The driver is obviously misinformed about our laws, as well as about civility.
The bicyclist managed to take a picture of the driver's face and his truck, but not his license plate, which is too bad.
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| My speedy steed. Please do not hit me. |
Packing Heat On Two Wheels
The comments under the photo were especially interesting. I'm not sure if he was joking, but the bicyclist (whom I do not know) said that he often bikes with a .45 in his waistband, which dissuades drivers from treating him with hostility. This time he only had his camera, and he wasn't able to shoot pictures fast enough to capture all the evidence the police would need.
I understand his frustration. Last summer, while biking on an empty street five lanes wide, a motorist sped up behind me, swerved into my lane (I was biking along the shoulder) and yelled at me to "Get on the sidewalk!" then sped off. By the time I had my phone out, he was too far away to get a picture of his license plate. He sped off uphill, making it impossible for me to chase him down.
His recklessness and utter selfishness could have maimed or even killed me had I not safely dodged his oncoming car. His cowardice and lack of regard for my life made me livid.
You Better Outrun My Bullet
But I do not see how a gun would have helped me. Yes, perhaps he would have seen a gun in my waistband, but at his speed he very well might not have seen it. And what would I do with it? I'm not going to start squeezing off rounds at a fleeing motorist; to do so would make me a worse criminal than he. Besides, I was in no state to be handling a weapon: my heart was pounding, adrenaline was shooting through my veins. I was angry, and I was feeling that fright that comes when sudden and severe peril suddenly interrupts a calm day.
I don't want my world to be under constant surveillance, but I'm considering getting a GoPro or some other video camera that would run constantly when I bike on the street. I think if more of us did that, it would be a more effective deterrent than a firearm.
We're In This Together
More importantly, carrying a camera rather than a gun says something about community. The gun is about taking personal charge of one's security, and while I applaud the individual responsibility that implies, the camera insists that reckless driving is not my problem but our problem, a problem that we will deal with as a community, through the structures of law that constitute our community. If you harass bicyclists, I will film it, and I will hand the evidence over to the police.
 |
| We're in this together. Can we share the road? |
I don't want to foster hostility between motorists and cyclists; I want to foster mutual respect. The roads are wide enough to share. If we can learn to do so, we'll all wind up reaching good destinations, together.
*****
Update: Here's a link to an article by Jill Callison about the confrontation between the cyclist and the motorist in the Sioux Falls Argus Leader.
*****
Further Update: Here's a link to a bit of good news: the driver has been charged with several misdemeanors. This is good news for bicyclists, and bad news for hotheaded drivers unwilling to share the road with their neighbors.