King Of The Road

I enjoy bike commuting, especially the days when something memorable happens. Okay, when something pleasurably memorable happens. This morning's memorable moment involved an @$$hole.

I was stopped at the red light westbound on North Foothills waiting to cross Ruby and Division. I was in the right wheel track since the lanes aren't that wide. I had the lane to myself. A car and a garbage truck were in the left lane. Looking in my mirror I saw a car approaching behind me but didn't give it much thought--until I looked again and saw it wasn't slowing down. I was preparing to bail to the curb when the car swerved and squeezed in between me and the car in the left lane. The driver and passenger looked straight ahead as if I wasn't there.

I decided I would wait for this car once the light turned green because I had no idea if he was going straight ahead or making a right. But I couldn't let it go without saying something so I rapped on the passenger-side window. They both looked at me and the driver hit the button to lower the window.

"What?"

I was more than polite and civil. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't crowd a cyclist like that. It's very dangerous."

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you'd get out of the f*#%in' road."

So much for killing him with kindness.

With the end of his sentence the light turned green and he jumped forward, cut over in front of the car in the left lane and whipped into the left turn lane to go south on Division. First in line!

As I passed by him and crossed Division I could not help but signal that he should make the next cut at 18 inches. (Hmmm...a new Internet meme?) If you're not familiar with what I'm referring to, then click here to see.

So if you see a dark-colored land yacht with Washington license #815ZDY, give him some room because he's not going to give you any.

I’m all for conversation but maybe you could just shut up for a while

This line from one of our family favorites—The Fifth Element with Bruce Willis, Gary Oldman and Milla Jovovich—probably ran through the head of the cyclist I met on Riverside Wednesday night. I still don’t know what possessed me. Why did I bother to say anything?

I pedaled up behind him westbound on Riverside, catching him at the stop light at Wall by the STA plaza. Good-looking black bike, fully loaded racks with panniers front and back. At least somewhat safety-oriented rider: wearing two rear-view mirrors clipped to his helmet as compared with my one.

Why do I say “somewhat” safety-oriented? He was wearing all dark clothing, his rear taillight was tucked away in near invisibility under the rack, and it was 5:15, the sun dropping rapidly to the west. He pedaled along slowly in the left-hand tire track of the right-hand lane, while I was riding as far to the right as is safe, per the law.

“Good afternoon,” I called cheerily. No response. “Is he wearing earphones?” I muttered aloud to myself. At that, he turned his head and smiled at me. White guy, long ringlets, soul patch, John Lennon glasses. “Hi,” I said, smiling back.

Light changed. Beat him to the next light, but of course it changed and he caught me on the red—kind of like what all of us do to drivers through downtown as they jackrabbit ahead only to wait for us at the next light.

The thing is, I could feel the impatience of the drivers behind us. Not only that, I could see it. They were stacking up behind us (remember, it’s 515 p.m.). If it had been only me they could have passed, but he blocked the lane. "Share the road" isn't just rhetoric directed at drivers—it's aimed at us, too.

While it’s legal for two riders to ride abreast, we weren’t together when he chose that spot all by himself. We were traveling at different speeds and once I got out ahead of those darn lights, I was going to be gone while he would continue to slow vehicular traffic from his illegal spot.

“You really should get over,” I said, glancing back at the string of cars behind us. “So they can get by.”

He smiled at me, his glasses glinting in the sun. “Thanks for the feedback,” he said politely.

I had to smile. “I thought you’d appreciate it,” I said as I pulled away when the light changed. He rode another block, then from his spot behind and to my left he made a wide right turn onto Lincoln and we went our separate ways.

What do you do when you see a cyclist doing something that irritates drivers, maybe making it harder on the rest of us, and you have the opportunity to say something?

Are we all bike educators, in a sense—trying to improve traffic flow, safety and courtesy among cyclists as well as drivers and pedestrians—or should I remember I haven’t been deputized and just shut up for a while?

What would you have done?