THE COMMUTE: SHARING THE ROAD
When you are a bicyclist, you must weigh your pedestrian rights against your vulnerability. You may in fact have the light, but it's hard to be self-righteous about it if a right-turning SUV has mowed you over. Be right, but don't be dead.
And don't look back.
I haven't had any very scary moments, but I've had enough ‘what are you doing?’ and ‘hello, I'm right here’ moments to up my defensive. I thought I was pretty good before, but now I'm taking nothing for granted. When I leave the house for work in the dewy innocence of morning, I have to put on my cynical-thinking cap.
‘Here I come, world,’ I think. ‘And use your damn turn signals.’
To be fair, most drivers follow the rules and give me a clue about which direction they're going. Some even reverse at a stop to clear the crossing, or brake to let me pass before turning. I wave a blessing on those wonderful people.
Some other people get a tight-lipped stare—especially at the school crossing, where I have to be a little aggressive if I want to get to the other side before Christmas.
Either way, sustained eye contact with drivers is essential when making a crossing. I brake and look three ways twice before I venture off the bike path.
But if you honk at me—if you honk at me!—whether you're hitting on me or about to hit me, I refuse to look at you. {Unless you are my brother, in which case, I speed up and honk at you.}
I'll calmly assess my imminent danger, and be moving along. I am not inviting discussion.
Mostly, I get flirty honks, but I did get one ‘OUT OF MY WAY, WOMAN!’ honk, at which point I decided to correct my head posture {but didn't dare give an ironic ‘thank you’ wave}. When we recently discussed ‘resting face,’ Papa told me that mine was ‘utterly and completely indifferent,’ so in such moments, I just try to feel very restful.
As for the... friendlier honks, someone asked if it bothers me to get these unwanted attentions. As long as they don't include attempts at conversation, I find them un-threatening and mildly amusing.
The first day I was curious how this aspect would play out, and, sure enough, I got a flirty honk that morning. On the way home that afternoon, I looked up at a crossing to see five boys {looked like twenty} leering at me from a tiny car. I should have been indignant, but I had to screw down a smile. I hadn't seen so many boys in one window since our family went to Lion Country Safari.
There was one afternoon that I was very tired, my back-pack was heavier than usual, and I had reached a stretch in the path rutted with big tree roots. I did not have a cheery aspect on life at the moment, nor was it lightened when a man hurriedly rolled down his window. ‘I am not in the mood, mister,’ was my dark thought. Then he attempted a wolf-whistle. He attempted it several times, and failed utterly.
It cheered me up very much.
October 21, 2014