It's been pretty quiet.

When a bicyclist gets quiet, the non-bicyclist assumes that one of two things has happened:

1.  A long-suffering automobile has finally cashed that smug good-for-nothing bicyclist's check.  Ka-pow!  One less bicyclist.
2.  The bicyclist has finally realized that, wow, they can get places faster if they drive in a car!  Of course!  How could I have missed this!?!?

Now the real reasons:

1.  I am getting married this weekend and so am a little busier than usual.  And yes, I am marrying another bicyclist.  A recumbent rider no less.
2.  I made my annual visit to Massachusetts where the bicycling is such a goddamn horrorshow that I was rendered briefly speechless.

Because I know my non-readership is suffering grievously I bring you Chafed words via a guest-speaker, my long-suffering co-adjutor who is not just a car-free bicyclist but a vegan car-free bicyclist.  Let me translate that for you:  whatever you're doing, he's doing it better, but he's way too evolved and classy to ever say so so I just said it for him.  You're welcome.

Note:  I've added a few pictures because my kids tell me it's not a story without a few telling pictures.

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Riding my bike northbound on Bryant (a “Bicycle Boulevard”) in Palo Alto, I had the pleasure of riding alongside a young blond woman driving a brand new red corvette. I gave her plenty of room to pass, as I always do for cars. I cannot stress how much room there was for everyone. I stopped at every stop sign and signalled at every turn. Said blond passes me once in the block before the light -- with plenty of room, mind you. She then has the unfortunate hassle of getting stopped at a red light (awwww). Catching up to her, I pull alongside the passenger side of her vehicle, giving her at least 2 feet between myself and her car. This is done so that I can take into consideration cars wanting to turn right (since I am, after all, a considerate cyclist). The light turns green. We both get going and at no point am I anywhere near the front of her car, or impeding her right of way. 

We are just two souls temporarily traveling in the same direction, with plenty of room for everyone. Or so I thought.

Halfway through the intersection, I see in my peripheral that she somehow got it in her pea brain that it’d be a good idea to flip me off -- for no immediately apparent reason. Curious, I follow her with the intention of asking why. I saw her run the red light at University, then make a right into the parking garage. Perfect! I catch up with her as she’s getting out of her car in the garage. “Hi! I saw you flipping the bird, and I just wanted to know if that was intended for me and, if so, why?”

She doubles down, “Because! You kept cutting me off! I was concerned for your safety!”  

(The rest of this is directed specifically at said, entitled blond).

Um... we were going northbound on the same street for all of about 4 short blocks (on a bicycle boulevard). During that time, there were 2 stop signs and a red light. You had plenty of room to go around me at any time, and you did safely (with the exception of taking your right hand off the wheel to unnecessarily make an obscene gesture) pass me exactly twice; once in the block before the red light, and once in the intersection.

Even if, in some alternate reality, there somehow wasn’t enough room for you to safely pass, I was definitely not going significantly slower than the speed limit. This, alone, says a lot. It says that you cannot and should not be bothered with a 2 - 3 second delay per block (not that any of that really mattered since you rolled up to a waiting red light that would have delayed your entire journey by the exact same amount of time -- but, I know, that’s thinking too much). Never mind that those 3 blocks are a popular bicycle boulevard, and that one might expect such exhausting, majorly inconvenient delays should one choose to take that route.

I know that you think you own the road, but you might run into this again. So I’ll break it down for you: I was giving myself just enough room to not get a “door prize” on my right, and enough room for you to pass (as most considerate cyclists are wont to do). I then gave you more than enough room at the red light, and also enough room for drivers wanting to turn right (onto Hamilton) to do so. There was plenty of room for everyone. So, I’m curious -- why does it mean that, just because you don’t know the spacial relationship between your big-ass fiberglass boat of a car and the rest of the universe, you deserve an abnormally and enormously wide berth from everyone who happens to be anywhere near you? Why do you feel so entitled that nobody should be anywhere near your car, despite it being a public road, just so that you can feel that your safety bubble isn’t being violated? At exactly what distance does someone have to be so that it is safe for you to proceed careening down the street?

I must say that chatting with you was telling and humorous. After declaring that you were “just concerned for my safety,” I could tell that you were full of shit... not that there was really any doubt prior to our conversation. Concerned for my own safety, and the safety of others, I decided to record our interaction with the intention of getting a description of you, your vehicle, and your plate number. Most of all, so that I could warn other cyclists. Recording was a good thing, too, since you immediately got on your phone with your “lawyer” (whom you kept calling “babe”) and started to say things like “I’m being assaulted” and “he’s threatening me” -- none of which could have been further from the truth. 

Again, my intention was to get a description of the vehicle, driver, and the plate number for the purpose of disseminating valuable information that might help to save the lives of countless other cyclists and pedestrians. As alluded to above, my only other objective was to satiate my own curiosity and inquire as to why you felt compelled to flip me off. I’m sure you’ll somehow twist that up in your own tiny little mind to equate to “assault.” Alas, that is why video recording was invented.

Anyway, after hearing you babble on for a few minutes, I can see exactly why you felt the need to flip me off. It was because you’re an entitled little princess who has no idea how to drive or act around other people. Just by looking at the way you drive, what you drive, and hearing you talk, there’s now no doubt in my mind that you grew up with everything handed to you, and that -- of course -- you grew up in a bubble where you were protected from the scary concept of “other people.”

My only fear is that our revealing encounter did absolutely nothing to deflate your enormous sense of entitlement. That, and I fear that you’re going to kill or seriously maim someone since you clearly have no idea how to drive that ridiculous and quintessentially “dumb blond” death-mobile. I am thoroughly convinced that it is a grave error that you have a license at all.

my nerves are shot.

Dear Chafed,

How is the experiment going with having the kids ride their own bicycles to camp in the morning?

Thanks,

- Imaginary Reader

Dear Imaginary,

I have six words for you:

Three crashes in three days.*

-Chafed



Crash #1 was on Monday.  We are rolling along Sand Hill Road.  We are in a bike lane but there is plenty of heavy-breathing commuter car traffic to our left and I am Not at my Calmest.  As is her wont, Sparkle Pony is allowing more and more distance to develop between her and Red Leader (aka Contraption Captain) with the result that Contraption Captain goes through a red green (sorry for the typo CC!) light, Sparkle Pony arrives at the same light and observes it turn yellow, Sparkle Pony slams on the brakes, and Rapunzel collides with her.

Rapunzel (7 years) takes it surprisingly well but her front fender is de-railed.  We limp in to Contraption Captain's place of work for a repair and continue on to camp after a discussion about stopping gradually and not killing your sister.

Tuesday brings us to Crash #2.  Different intersection but same result.  Light turns yellow and Sparkle Pony stops on a dime.  Rapunzel does not.  Rapunzel collides with Sparkle Pony and gets a long scrape on her back.  Now I'm mad and I complain aggressively to Sparkle Pony who cries.  It is not a good ride.  I mean, no one dies but I start to wonder about cars and whether I should spend more time in them. 

Wednesday and (yes, really) we arrive at Crash #3.  Rapunzel has had enough and is being towed in a wagon where she can sing and play with her toys and feel generally safe from attack by her older sister.  We are heading down a hill and Sparkle Pony (who very much enjoys signaling) is signaling a left hand turn and hitting the brakes when she flies off her bicycle.  I can't believe it.  To her credit Sparkle Pony gets right to her feet and pulls up her bicycle and resists attempts to apply sympathy and comfort.  She says she is fine and indeed she appears fine.  We get to camp without any additional incident.

This is the last week of camp.  Up until this point we were doing quite well.  Rapunzel loves to bike.  Sparkle Pony loves to bike (and apparently has had the opportunity to work out a few aggressions on her younger sister) and I...kindof prefer biking with just Contraption Captain at this point.  We're still doing fine if you ignore the big bald patches on my head =(








*That's right, my nerves are so shot I can't even count anymore.  Which is a problem since I'm an engineer (not the train kind either) and numbers Matter.

was it good for you? no. really. was it good for you?

In the morning this road is a little residential road which could stand re-paving.  In the evening it's a way too narrow road that could stand some re-paving.  In the evening there are cars parked on both sides of the road and that shrinks it down to about 1.5 car lanes, aka not really enough for cars traveling in two different directions.

This little road is a bit of a thoroughfare for bicycles.  It steers some to a bike bridge and others to bicycle boulevard.  It steers a third group towards yet another bike bridge that takes riders to downtown past a library.  The 1.5 car lanes fit a lot of bicycles because we are so skinny.  I note that the reason the cars have a hard time fitting down this road is not because the road is too narrow, it's because the cars (parked and moving) are too fat. 

It's after work and Contraption Captain and I are bicycling towards home, talking and leaning towards each other as we recount our days.  We are riding side by side and watching for car doors.  A car comes up behind us and I can tell from the way it's frothing at the mouth that it is frantic to get past these two horrible side by side obstacles.  I mentally shrug and move behind Contraption Captain.

The car passes us on the left but of course the road is so narrow, has been made so skinny with parked cars that the car is now in oncoming traffic.  And there is oncoming traffic.  Car #2 turns the corner at this moment and leans all over their horn in absolute outrage at seeing oncoming traffic in their lane, admittedly an unpleasant experience.  Car #1 gets in front of us but can't actually go any faster because we were traveling at about 15mph and that's about what this road can take. 

Car #1 gets to a stop sign but is so ruffled by having had to slow down for a bicyclist that they don't really stop which is a shame as there is a pedestrian crossing the street in the crosswalk.  The pedestrian (who appears to be a grouchy old man type of pedestrian) pauses in front of the car to scream at them and chastise them for not stopping and for their generally bad behavior.

Contraption Captain and I smother laughter. 

Car #1 finally makes it past the pedestrian and takes off with his exhaust pipe between his legs.  Or something.

This brings me to a picture I saw yesterday.  It's a picture of a supremely grief-striken girl holding a sign encouraging people to "Walk for Life" to support breast cancer research.  The sign indicates thet her mother has died of the disease.  It's a tragic and moving picture.  I looked at it for a long time, hoping that I would not die when my children were small and still needing me.  People wrote in talking about the importance of a cure so that no one else's mother dies.  All true, ok? 

But.

I just want to say this: 

Without any research. 
Without any fund-raising. 
Without any act from Congress.

....it is in our power to save lives now. 

Is it 200 feet to the end of the road?  Do you really need to pass that bicyclist?  Why not wait, that would be safer.  Is it a stop sign?  Think about stopping.  Do you not want to stop because those damn bicyclists don't stop?  Hey, didn't your mother tell you that just because everyone jumps off a cliff doesn't mean you should jump to?  Do right.  Turn away from wrong.

Nearly all of us drive cars at least some of the time and most of us drive all of the time.  Everyone who drives a car has the power to save a life.  Now.  Today.  Without research.  Yield and allow another driver onto the highway.  Let someone go in front of you who is signaling that they need to turn off.  Wait for that little kid on her bike who is slow to get underway when the light turns green.  Be slow and be patient and drive gently and you will be the person who saves someone's mother, someone's child, someone's friend, someone's husband.

It begins with you.

On July 24, a pleasant lazy Sunday for many of us, a well loved software engineer was driving back to his home after running a few errands.  A second car slammed into his BMW and killed him instantly.  Steve Lacey leaves behind a wife he loved and two little kids he treasured.  The person who killed him was (maybe) drunk and claims to have been in pursuit of another car "that cut me off" when they ended his life and broke the hearts of Lacey's family and friends. 

Don't drive drunk.
Don't use your car as a weapon when you are angry.
Don't use your car as a weapon!
Don't kill someone's wife.
Don't kill someone's husband.
Don't kill someone's father or mother or sister or brother. 
Don't do what cannot be undone.

Save someone.

Please.

I have seen the soldiers of bicycling. And they're very cute.

Ever since writing about The Pretties aka the Beautiful Godzillas I've been noticing cute girl bicyclists.  I saw a beautiful woman with straight black hair and an imperious gaze and a taupe bicycle with turquoise trim standing on the wrong side of the road while waiting for a light to turn.  I've seen pairs of young women bicyclists riding side by side inclining their heads towards each other to share a joke And No One Bothers Them.  I've reviewed every close-call incident I've ever had with another bicyclist and confirmed, it's never been a Pretty.  They do whacked out stuff like ride on the sidewalk or up the wrong side of the street or stopping suddenly to  check their make-up or fingernails but they do not have near death experiences like the rest of us.  Why?  They're supremely slow.  A good roadie is travelling at 26mph andwhen things get dodgy disaster strikes fast.  Pretty Godzillas?  They literally don't want to break a sweat.  Sweating is for losers.  Sweating is for Uglies aka you and me.

It was an incident of a few nights back though that sealed the deal for me.  The setting:  a pleasant summer evening.  I'd left work and biked the eight miles or so as fast as I fucking could.  My backpack was glued to my sweaty back.  My hair was stuck to my face.  I probably had bugs on my teeth, I often do.  I was delighted with the number of roadies I'd cooked on the way home and then I got to the intersection of El Camino and Sand Hill.  That was when I saw them:  Two Pretties, a matched set.

Their bicycles were boring and cheap, washed up mountain bicycles from some department store that was having a going out of business sale.  These particular Pretties looked to be about eighteen years old.  The one nearest me turned her Thoroughbred head and gave me a vapid gaze that communicated that she vaguely saw something nearby that appeared to be totally middle-aged and obsolete.  Ewww.

I looked at her with interest.  She had on a dark blue bra made of something soft.  Over the bra she had on a pale pink tank top with spaghetti straps.  Her shoulders were a little bit tan.  She had long dark honey-colored hair.  She was wearing incredibly tiny denim shorts that barely covered her rump.  Her friend was dressed similarly and they shared similarly bored expressions on their symmetrical faces.

The light turned green.  Denim Shorts had left her bicycle in a supremely high gear.  She pedals off slowly, languidly.  She has a fantastic rump.  I mean I'm female and I could see that this was the kind of rump that can make a guy cry.  And this rump with this jeans is standing on her pedals and turning the cranks in super slow motion.

I heard a pin drop.

This is the intersection where every goddamned day the light turns green for me and a dozen fucking cars run that light because the only traffic is from hapless bicyclists.  Not that evening.  This was the day not a car ran the light.  In fact, this was the day I saw one guy get out of his car and put his hand over his heart and salute.  There was another one on his knees next to the wheelhub of his Jeep Cherokee either praying and having a religious experience or moaning and having a heart attack.  I'm not sure which but he looked pretty happy about it.

I mutely followed The Rump across the street and then took off for home, a realization growing within my bitter old chest.

If we're going to be saved, it will be The Pretties who save us.  Who cares about running over a few kids?  Well as long as no jail time is involved, I mean they probably had it coming, right?  And grandma?  She likely had one foot in the grave already, you're doing her a favor.  And roadies?  Ugly clothes and weird expressions on their faces.  Commuters?  Uglier and weirder.  Also sweaty.

But a beautiful girl in tiny shorts on a bicycle?  This, my friends, is something worth stopping for.  I for one salute our new bicycle overlords.

don't be that guy (if only because it can get expensive)

My commute in to work (and towards camp for the kids) leads down a long straight hill with a divided road, two lanes of traffic going in each direction and a big wide bike lane for the bicycles.  Which is good because the traffic here moves fast and a skinny bike lane would be scary.  Part way down the hill there is an intersection.  Here the road fans out with three additional lanes (bringing our total to five lanes for just one direction!  Those lucky cars!  Has anyone ever seen five bike lanes?  Yeah I didn't think so) with two for car-people going left, two for car-people going straight, one for car-people turning right.  The bike lane turns into a skinny avenue between the right hand lane and the straight lane. 

So far so good.

Car is heading downhill towards the intersection.  They wish to take a right on red.  The straight-going traffic is way backed up however, waiting for a green.  What to do?

If you guessed "drive down the bike lane" you would be correct.  Which happens to be illegal but whatever.

So this morning we are riding down the bike lane towards the red light.  Contraption Captain, Sparkle Pony, and then me pulling Rapunzel.  As a bicyclist I am a noticer and as a bicyclist mom out with her kids I am a noticer times ten thousand so here is what I notice:

1.  The back of a black car that is pulled entirely off the road.  A person standing by the car.
2.  I see a newer generic Red Car pull out of car lane and into bike lane.

#1 is not in the bike lane at all and has no brake lights etc so it's dropping off my radar.
#2 makes me shake my head and laugh and feel annoyed all at the same time.  It's not a close call or anything but people abruptly pulling into the bike lane like this open the door to people pulling into the bike lane on top of me or one of my family.  I have no desire to be mounted by 3,000 pounds of hot red metal, thanks.

Then what happens?

1.  I see the person by the car move into the bike lane.
2.  I see Red Car pull *back* into the car lane.

What do I think?

"Ohhh, hey, that's so sweet and hopeful!!  Red Car must have seen my nice family and done the right thing."  Except maybe not.  Now I see what Red Car has noticed.  That black car on the shoulder is a POLICE CAR OMFG!  POLICE!  POLICE!!  POLIIIIIICE!  YOU ARE SO SCREWED!

Cop is holding a camera in his hand.  Cop has clearly photographed Red Car doing the Naughty.  Red Car tries to hide among the other cars but Cop gestures angrily that Red Car needs to pull over so he can be spanked as an example to all the other commuters.  Driving to work having already blown a chunk of your paycheck on a donation to your local PD is so civic minded.  Or something. 

Cop sees the three bicyclists and one wagon check their progress and gestures us through. 

the kids are alright.

Following recovery from her cold Rapunzel wanted to get back into bicycling to camp which made me happy.  I do not mind towing her as the trip is long and the hour early but I love the idea that she is excited about bicycling and I am proud of how she is handling herself. 

So Monday we were going along pretty well.  Contraption Captain in the lead (I'm reminded of Make Way For Ducklings) and then Sparkle Pony a dignified second, Rapunzel third, and then Chafe City.... with a packet of ninja throwing stars for any drivers who come too close to the bike lane's white line.

We clear the Stanford Mall and cross El Camino and begin our charge towards Bryant Street where the traveling is easier.  Ding ding ding!  Railway crossing.  Train.  We pull up and wait for the train to go by.  Train goes by.  Gate come back up.  Contraption Captain and Sparkle Pony head across.  Rapunzel is just on the crossing with me behind her when the bell starts ringing.  Again.  She is seven and does not know that she can just continue on and be ok, she is sure that a train is imminent and she is at least worried she might die but hopeful that her mother can save the day.  She halts and panics and tries to back her bicycle up with her still on it.  This goes:  not well. 

I pat her back and move her off the bike and steer her under the gate and then quickly drag myself and the two bikes under the gate with me and then I back us off until we are at least close to the white line.  The lights are flashing red and the bell is very loud.  Neither of us enjoy the experience much.  I pat Rapunzel's back some more and the second train hurtles by. 

I glance towards the cars lined up and waiting, gauging their level of humanity as they will be briefly held up by us.  The middle-aged woman behind the wheel of the car in front meets my eye and the look she gives me is one of purest compassion and sympathy and kindness.  Someone's little kid just had a bad scare.  Rapunzel does not cry.  She gets back on her bike and we cross the tracks and bear left towards Bicycle Boulevard.  No car honks. 

Rapunzel tells me that the gate should have just stayed down after the first train.  I agree with her.  I say "if you ever find yourself stuck on tracks with your bicycle, what do you do?"  Rapunzel says "Drop the bicycle and get off the tracks."  I agree.  Sparkle Pony adds "Because you can't replace us, but you can replace a bicycle." 

Yes.