A ride of solitude

Note: I’m trying to get this post down while the cement is still wet…so please bear with the bad grammar/spelling/thought processes/rambliness.

If you ever watch bike racing on TV you might have heard the announcers talk about a rider “turning himself inside-out” with a really hard effort. And on occasion I’d like to think that I myself have inverted my physiology in this overly dramatic hyperbolic way…pounding down the coast at 30 mph or charging up a hill in a tall gear or setting a relentless pace on a group ride. But I found myself inside-out in a different way on today's ride.

Riding one of my regular routes, I passed the spot where two cyclists were killed last weekend by a county deputy who had, apparently, fallen asleep at the wheel of his police car. It’s been all over the news and on my mind more than I care to admit. I knew the spot was coming up and I tried to steel myself to the sight of it…as I imagined there was a makeshift roadside memorial…photos, jerseys, water bottles, flowers, bike parts and other stuff all piled in homage.

Though only cruising at a casual pace, I instantaneously found myself short-of-breath and panicked. I was overcome by dread and fear and anger and an overwhelming sense of loss. Tears found my eyes and my heart felt like it would explode.

Next were thoughts of Bill, a co-worker who was killed by a truck last year on his bike. And Paul Clark, the brother of a friend who was mowed down out on Mines Road in the East Bay. And thoughts of the teacher killed on Mission Street in Santa Cruz last year and the kid on his fixie who died down near Seabright and the bastard who got out of his car and downed a beer after killing a guy on his bike last year on the Peninsula.

A scooter buddy of mine was clobbered head-on last week on Highway 9 by a goof who was speeding and overshot a turn, locked his brakes, crossed the double-yellow and, in fact, the entire lane of opposing traffic. Fortunately the car basically split in half and Josh “only” has two broken legs and a busted up shoulder and nine months until he can walk again.

And though it was a while ago, I still have visions of my best buddy Troy repeating himself over and over in a hospital bed after an SUV clipped him and kept going. He’s, thankfully, as back to ‘normal’ as he ever was.

But the fact remains that we are ever-fragile and delicate and exposed. Though we, some of us, look like Superheroes with our funny costumes when we ride, we are anything but. We have no Wonder Twin Powers or magic lassos or protective bubbles we can conjure up…in some cases don’t have any defense at all—not even a chance at an evasive maneuver.

Despite it all, I will not stop riding. I refuse to live a numb and muted life of fear. But I, however, want to do something about this shit.

I want to remind people that the comfort cocoon that is the modern American automobile is still a deadly if unintentional weapon that should be attentively and judiciously used. That the luxury which seems so alluring in cars equals insulation from reality and our fellow human beings. That we should not be using it as a phone booth, dining room, reading parlor or entertainment center. That we should consider what features might save somebody else’s life as well as their own like a smaller vehicle or anti-lock brakes or not putting shit on your car that eliminates its crumple zones—I truly believe that the crumple zone of the car that hit Josh is what saved his life and that the effective elimination of it on the police cruiser (it had a steel ‘grille guard’) added to the devastation in the bicycle collision.

I want to continue to work for more funding for bicycle and pedestrian safety; for bike lanes and trails; for driver awareness campaigns and rider education programs too. For us to stop pouring billions monthly into unjust wars and put it back into crumbling infrastructure and alternative intermodal transportation and under supported schools and law enforcement and services here at home.

I want riders to take off the fucking headphones—you need ALL of your senses ALL of the time. For them to ride safe bikes with real brakes and keep the fixed-gears on the track where they belong. And to follow traffic laws better and realize that riding is as much of a privilege as driving, even if it doesn’t require a license. Be predictable and visible and sensible. And wear a helmet—at work we get letters EVERY DAY from people who would otherwise be dead.

Yes, shit happens, as they say, and it always will. But some of it IS preventable. So please, let’s all slow down a bit. Let’s be more aware and less adversarial. I want it to stop. I don’t ever want to have to write a post like this about you. And I don’t want you to ever have to write a post like this about me.