On the eve of Christmas Eve, yours truly took exception to some Twitter mini-screeds in which people who ride bicycles were slandered as paranoid #BikeZealot whiners who think every driver on the road is out to kill them.
This was fun.
I said, “Assuming that motorists are often careless, drunk or otherwise dangerous and deadly isn’t cyclist paranoia. It is a basic survival skill for anyone on the road.”
My favorite response to that:
Your whole tweet is paranoia.
I was also labeled nervous, scared and more:
Bikers who are that scared of drivers and have preconceived notions like that don’t belong on the road.
Obviously a guy can’t let that go unanswered, so I politely observed that the difference between situational awareness and paranoia is difficult for many to grasp.
“Let me put it this way,” I added. “Don’t trust anyone driving a motor vehicle (me included), and also assume any nearby cyclist is about to do something stupid. IOW: Pay attention.”
The guys (an assumption, maybe a preconceived notion) liked that. They saw the light. They agreed with me and appreciated that I had called out “bike twitter,” who surely wouldn’t appreciate that. Clearly some preconceived notioning was going on.
The problem with bikers that whine on here is that they don’t believe in co-existence, they want cars gone for good.
Horrified as I was that someone might think I was on their side against people who ride bicycles, I tore myself away, turned out the lights, and got a decent night’s sleep.
If I’d thought it would make any difference to anyone, I might have gone on my own rant – not calling it that, of course – about motorists who whine when they have to share the road, about how our society is hopelessly addicted to driving, and about the enormous harm we do ourselves and others because of that addiction.
Driving a car has its place. I drive sometimes. Until working from home became a requirement rather than a choice nine or so months ago, I occasionally drove from Longmont to Boulder and back. More than 95% of the time, I rode the bus. I bicycled part or all of that nearly 40-mile, round-trip commute many more times each year than I drove.
I don’t want all cars gone for good. Just most of them.
Pedal on,
B.J.
The Smith Compound 