No Free Rides

I have gone past the vague antipathy I feel for motorists. Not all motorists. Not all the time. The motorists for whom I have a renewed animosity toward are those scooting around the streets on my way to work. To be honest, I didn't notice them so much when I was trapped inside my house, but now that I am back to commuting on my bicycle I feel this insipid rage. Didn't signal before you decided to turn in front of me? I'll mutter something under my breath. Zip past me on the right, accelerating to the stop sign? I might roll my eyes. 

Oh, I'm one tough hombre when it comes to the aggravations of bike riding. In the city. Where two wheels is just asking for trouble. At least that's the way it seems when I'm rolling along with my helmet on, minding everyone's business in case everyone stops minding theirs. Defensive driving is nothing compared to the attention required for being on the far right hand side of the road. Not on the sidewalk, because they are called side-walks not side-rides. Not taking the whole lane, even though we are by California State Law allowed to do just that. That would be asking for trouble. Trouble, in this case, meaning something like maim and kill.

Not that this comes up very much for me, since I try and travel at times when four wheels are less apparent. I also try and avoid anything that might be considered major thoroughfares. This has been made nominally easier by the "slow streets" campaign here in Oakland. During the shelter in place which continues to hover over our city, many residential areas have been designated "slow," meaning that they are closed to through traffic. I say "nominally" because my experience with this program so far has been that drivers tend to careen wide around the modest barriers and traffic cones set out to limit access. At the moment that they swoop around those barricades, I have another moment to gather myself before the parade passes by. The casual, less-than-mindful automotive parade. 

So in many ways I feel like I am creating a back to normal bit of comfort for myself. For those fifteen to twenty minutes, It's like old times out there. Dodging cars, head on a swivel, hoping to make it from point A to point B in one piece. It's a survival game. One that I am proud to say I has not yet caught me napping. 

There are still a few motorists out there at whom I have yet to roll my eyes.