THE COMMUTE: EXCUSE ME
The first stretch I take on the bike path is divided by a fiercely yellow line, and though both lanes are clear, I stay on the right side like a good rule-follower {except for those few yards broken up by roots}. Into the next neighborhood, the paint disappears, and I settle into a middle-course.
So do most other pedestrians, so although it is a wide path, passing someone requires a fair warning and a 'thank you.'
I would brake almost to a stop and say 'excuse me' as I prepared to pass, but this proved confusing. People would stop and turn around, believing I wished to speak with them. This required coming to a sudden full stop, and exchanging embarrassed smiles and polite murmurings, before I could regain balance and momentum.
So I switched to 'bicycle on your right' or 'bicycle on your left.' {And, yes, I got them confused, but just once.} For the most part, this works better. People step to the safe side, or their jogging buddy grabs their arm, and I can speed up again.
But there are still nervous women who—despite the fact that I've slowed nearly to a stop, am using a normal tone of voice, and have clearly stated innocent intentions—undergo paroxysms of fear. They gasp. They cower. They clutch their bags. They leap off the six-foot wide path like I'm a monster truck. I say 'sorry' and 'thanks.' I feel badly about it.
So now I am considering the angelic method. 'Do not be afraid!'
• photo credit •
October 31, 2014