Backstory:
I want to find a cheap road bike (10-speed) to fix up. I spent all morning at garage sales finding that the only bikes people sell are either kids bikes, or old mountain bikes. This song was spawned from my frustations.

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Lyrics:
I want a bike
Like one I like
Not a BMX, or Mountain Bike,
Or Recumbent, and not a Trike
A road bike

I want to go faster than fast
My commute could be such a blast
I want to make all the cars jealous
As I go past

Last night’s ride home from work was a little more interesting than most. Generally I have easy rides as far as dealing with cars goes. I think I’ve only had one guy honk at me, and most people just pass me by with no issue.

But last night was a little different. I got in my first “discussion.”

I was riding along the road, and as a car passed me, the driver said, “Get on the %&$*# sidewalk!” He finished his sentence and sped away, very passive aggressive. But he sped away towards a red light, and so I began to weigh my options. I knew I would be passing him, so I had to decide if I would say anything, and what it would be if I decided too.

Well, I’m a road rage junkie, so of course I decided to say something. But in the genuine interest of bike/car relations, I knew it wouldn’t be anything too aggressive. The lane was a straight/right turn lane, which means I have to stay on the left side of the lane, rather than the right, so right turning cars can pass me and turn safely. This conveniently put me on the driver’s side of the man’s car. So I pulled up next to him, dismounted, and I said to him, “Sir, it’s illegal for me to ride on the sidewalk.” This is true. Georgia Law says anyone over 16 years of age needs to ride their bike on the road, and follow all traffic laws. Sidewalks are actually very dangerous for cyclists, since most motorist aren’t looking down the sidewalk for oncoming cyclists, they’re looking down the street for oncoming vehicles. If you don’t believe me, next time you’re at an intersection leaving a neighborhood, check and see if you’re in the crosswalk. It’s ok, I do it too.

Back to the subject at hand:
“Sir, it’s illegal for me to ride on the sidewalk.”

“I don’t give a %&*$#@!”

So at this point I realize I’m not dealing with someone who thinks I’m in the wrong. I’m dealing with someone who feels he owns the road, and it’s there just for him. Seeing as there is no way to use logic with people like this, I ended the conversation with “I’m sorry you feel that way.” I then pulled the rest of the way up to the stop line, and waited for the green light.

The light changes, the driver next to me lets me pass in front of him so as to return the the right side of the road (since it’s no longer a turn lane) and I continue on. A couple cars pass, and then the man comes up on we once again. This is one of the joys of passing traffic, if there’s a jerk, you may deal with him more than once. So the man pulls up beside me, but rather than speed passed like the rest, he does his best to get in the last word, but all I can make out is “on your tombstone.” I reply with “You have a good evening” multiple times in what was honestly a less than congenial voice. But as I’m saying this, I notice a person in his passenger seat. It was teenager, maybe 17 or so years old, I imagine his son. He was white as a ghost. He kept his head forward, avoiding eye contact with me. Poor kid. At this point, I wanted to say something about making his son proud, but again, I wanted to keep this as civil as possible and come out with a “bikes have the right” stance, not a “well you’re an a-hole” one.

So he finally speeds away, and the stretch of road ahead of us is long enough that he looses me. So I continue along, fairly bummed out, with this paranoid feeling that everyone on the road hates me.

I get into the left turn lane, and stop at the stop line waiting for the light to turn green. To my right, in the straight lane, a large white SUV pulls up beside me. “Are you turning left?” I’m already on edge, so I immediately think, “Oh great, here’s another one.” But looking at her, she’s smiling, so I disarm and reply, “Yes, thanks for asking!” Since, for the most part, riding a bike in traffic is like being in a mall full of mimes. No one communicates with each other. It’s almost surprising to hear a voice on the road. She then starts to kind of babble, saying something along the lines of “trying to help you out” and that she’s proud of me. The light turns green, we go our separate ways, and I can’t help but feel like it was a sign that not every car on the road is driven by a bike hater. It was a nice way to end the ride.

But thinking back, she did say something along the lines of “you’ll get all muscular.” Which, while odd anyways, also means she currently thinks I’m not muscular. Hurumph. What a jerk.

In response to my sister’s blog:

Last night on my way home, I had a pretty rough ride. My legs just weren’t really feeling the 5.5 miles home. Not sure if it was the long ride I took for lunch, or maybe they got too rested from driving to work on Wednesday, but this morning I woke up to that dull throb you get after a tough workout. This should be getting easier right?

So this morning I decided to drive into work. Not only were my legs quite tired, but being Friday, traffic was guaranteed to be lighter. I could probably get home 45 minutes earlier than usual. More time at home, more time with the kid…less effort. This seems to solve itself.

But then comes the guilt. The cyclist’s guilt.

I’ve spent the past 5 months saving money on gas. I’ve spent the past 5 months lessening traffic. Saving the environment. Getting in shape. Lots of ideas I had adopted to feel proud and motivate myself to continue. And now it backfires. Everyone around me notices that I’ve adopted a new attitude. The occasionally snarky “Oh, has the price of gas gone up? I hadn’t noticed” comment. (All in fun of course) I mean, you can’t help but separate yourself from the people inside the giant steel boxes around you. You’re already so separated as it is.

But all these reasons I had given myself to keep biking to work, and to pump myself up, are great reasons to hate myself on the occasion I drive myself to work. Don’t get me wrong, I never started biking out of guilt of CO2 emissions or anything, it was always just a nice addition.

So maybe this is a great lesson in humility. I’m no better than those folks in the cars around me. I just happen to be on my bike, they happen to be in their car. Sometimes I’m in my car, and I pass a cyclist. I always want them to just know that I’m “one of them.” I have a bike rack on my car, he probably gets it. He’s probably “down.” I bet he’s thinking to himself, “cruise on brother, I’ll excuse your current mode of transportation cause I’m sure you’d rather be biking.” Yep, that’s probably exactly what it is.

So hopefully this can serve as a lesson. I’m not saving the world. I’m not changing the world. I’m changing myself, and that’s great, for me. No one is in debt to me. I’m just a guy riding his bike. Well, not today, but you know…other days. Not the weekends either. But you know, when I do.