A couple of weeks ago the local paper carried a letter to the editor
that whined something like this: "Do these lycra-clad thirty-something
Lance Armstrong wannabees who run stop signs and red lights, change lanes
without signaling, and ride in traffic lanes when there are bike lanes
designated for them, really expect motorists to indulge their Tour de
France flights of the imagination?"
For a couple of days I stewed over that letter, mentally composing
several biting replies. Is the writer saying that all cyclists are
scofflaws? Does he believe that only cyclists run stop signs? Is he
saying that motorists do not? Does he also take exception to the
distinctive attire of baseball, football, basketball and hockey players?
On and on like that.
But then I rode in the ULCER, the Utah Lake Century Epic Ride, a
club-sponsored event that benefits local charities. About 1900 riders
participated this year, riding their choice of 33, 67, and 111 mile
routes, the latter of which circumnavigates the eponymous lake. This was
my third mass ride, the two previous being the last couple of (1000 rider
larger) MS-150's a hundred miles to the north. I found this ride a little
less well organized. Rest stops, in particular, occasionally ran out of
supplies, as did a couple of the SAG wagons (more flats than they'd
anticipated, and evidently some riders without patch kits and spares).
The route was interesting, though, and reasonably well-marked. I had a
good time, mostly.
As the riders were lining up, there was a guy on the P.A. giving us
information about the ride. There are, for instance, numerous angled
railroad crossings he cautioned us about. And over and over, he reminded
us that "there are no cyclist-exempt stop signs or red lights on this
course."
And then we started. Club groups racing against the clock went first,
then the rest of us. And as I rode with that mob, I began to see the
letter writer's point. For the first few miles of the ride there really
were cyclist exempt stop signs, with police officers waving us through.
But then we began to spread out, and there were no more cops. Nearly all
the riders, though, continued to ride as if it were a closed course,
blowing stop signs and red lights without even slowing down. One stretch
of the course was on a four-lane arterial. Cyclists were riding three and
more abreast on this road, taking not only the right lane, but spilling
into the second lane as well. And then we got onto a quieter, two-lane
country road. ULCER riders were still riding as through no one else were
on the road, using the whole right lane and even riding two-abreast the
wrong way in the opposing lane. At one point a very patient lady in a
minivan got into the mass of riders a bit behind me. There was no
oncoming traffic, so it should have been a simple thing for her to pass
the knot of riders I was following and get us out of her way and her out
of ours. But nobody was moving over. "Car back," I yelled. No one
responded in any way. Well, I'm a trained singer and I used to be a
junior high teacher. "Car back, MOVE OVER," I bellowed. It was if the
entire two or three dozen cyclists ahead were all deaf. The patient lady
had to stay among the cyclists, doing 18 mph in a 35 mph zone, until she
came to where she could turn off.
As I said, I mostly enjoyed the ride, but I don't think I'll be writing
that indignant reply to that letter. Maybe the writer had just had an
encounter with the bunch I rode with in the ULCER, in which case his
annoyance was justified.
Bill
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| There oughta be limits to Freedom. |
| -- George W. Bush |
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