i saw myself today

Another woman, a little girl on her bike, maybe a bit older than me. White hair in a loose pony tail, wearing a dress. When her light changed and she crossed in front of me at the intersection she grabbed a bunch of hem and sat on it to keep it from the spokes and brakes. That’s me, I thought! Oh, my gawd, that’s me!

rules shmools

I was riding on the sidewalk, yes, the sidewalk, because it is the best route to the main road from my house, snow-wise. It’s a bit slow, this”riding” on the sidewalk, because I have to pay attention to pedestrians, and puppies. They have the right of way you see, and I don’t want to startle them. They are delicate birds, protective of their turf, and so they should be!
There was a woman in front of me in the “middle lane” I hung back, no sense in making her lurch. When the sidewalk widened, with my most cheerful chipper voice and smile I asked if I could squeeze by on her left. I usually get a pretty good response to a chipper voice and a smile.
She turned around and scowled. “Yer not supposed to ride on the sidewalk nya nya nya…,” I’m almost certain I heard her whine over the sound of my headphones. A response not unprecedented.
“Yea, I know”, I sighed as I passed, giving her plenty of room.  What I wish I had said was: “Thank you for sharing!”
What I wanted to say was: “What are you? Five? You gonna tell your mommy? Have you seen a bike path lately? Would you walk on a street so narrow with snowbanks on either side, it’s barely wide enough to fit the 2-ton murder weapon it was plowed for?  You think this is embarrassing for you? Finding a patient cyclist behind you hoping to pass by?  Try looking over your shoulder and finding a line up of five homicidal drivers!”

Yes, I know riding on the sidewalk is illegal in the city of Toronto, but that’s not really a logical argument, is it? That’s like saying: “You’re stupid, it’s true, because Lisa thinks you’re stupid, too!”  I think you’ll find that if you didn’t have that argument, what I mean is, if it weren’t illegal to ride on the sidewalk in Toronto, there would be no reason why pedestrians and cyclists can’t share a sidewalk – they already share bike paths –  provided mutual respect and rules of clear communication are in place.
The only reason it’s illegal is that people generally can’t predict the outcome of their actions. Let’s face it, most laws are made for those to whom consideration for others does not come naturally.
Cyclists are at least as vulnerable as pedestrians, more so, because if we fall we have a longer way down! If the street seems too dangerous, and the sidewalk is nearly deserted and 6 feet wide, I will choose the sidewalk.
Thank you for sharing!

my new relationship...

…with my bike, Windy!
A while ago I wrote about how buying a bike reminded me of falling in love. I’ve spent some quality time with Windy now, and she’s not perfect, but she’s been a good pal.
I had a little trouble with some of the Simcoe‘s features. For a very scary month it even seemed there could be  intermittent problems with clicking and skipping in the Shimano Nexus gear hub. Intermittent problems are the worst kind of problems because they never occur when at the mechanic’s. But since the first of two free tune-ups, included in the purchase, recommended a month into ownership and again after the first year, the trouble seems to have cleared.

So, let’s get all the unpleasantness out of the way first. The paint “powder-coated for extra rust resistance”gets a lot of mention in curbside ‘s write ups about this brand, but mine hasn’t fared too well at all. My almond milk coloured paint job has a lot of little nicks and chips around the body from where the u-bar lands  every time I park, even though it was designed to be “locked up next to metal poles all day”. For some reason these marks don’t bother me at all. They don’t threaten the bike’s structural safety. They give it that well-used, well-loved, hard-knock life feel I can identify with. And the rust matches the colour of the decals and script on the body exactly!
The kickstand is thin and wobbly, and after a bit of wiggling and twisting, it still doesn’t get into a position where it’s of any actual use without careful balancing, at least not with a basket on the front, because it doesn’t keep the bike upright enough. And it seems to be connected to the fender in a way that makes it difficult to replace with a different kind of kickstand.
This 3-speed doesn’t come with a luggage rack, and the seat is too hard and pretty cheap;  you can see the staples from underneath.

I’ve made a few adjustments to make Windy more comfortable and practical. I changed out to a wider handle bar with a better angle for the wrists, raised it a bit and brought it closer by changing the stem. The cockpit was probably a bit too big for me, even though I’m tall, but it is a really huge bike, which it had to be, if the seat was going to come up high enough.
I would say altogether I’ve spent about 200 dollars on top of the price of the bike, not including the accessories I transferred from my previous bike.
You’re probably wondering why I chose a Simcoe, if it falls so short of filling my needs.
I test-rode a lot of bikes, and most didn’t come close to what Windy offers in the way of ergonomics, durability, quality where it counts, winter-heft, and yes …elegance. I would have had to make expensive adjustments on any bike.
I think the Simcoe ends up being a really amazing vehicle.
I love what we can do together – the way she responds to me now that she fits, the way I can move around and balance on top of her and be prepared for anything,  the way we wiggle around through the snow together.
But she’s a hard ride! Its “lightweight cromoly [sic] tubes” are very unforgiving.
What’s chromoly anyways!  Apparently, it’s a type of steel, but stronger, so less material is needed, hence a chromoly bike weighs less. I guess the strength makes it more rigid. I shudder to think what riding an aluminum bike would feel like.
A little bit now about the  55 dollar seat I bought: Elastomers, are not springs! And Royalgel’s “unique tridimensional gel structure”… “guarantees  the highest level of comfort” for my tender sit bones, but maybe it works better in its native Italy where the temperature rarely drops below 10°C. It does have a useful quick dry surface that’s non slip as well. The slightly sticky top coat can be good and bad, bad when you’re fidgety and you need to adjust your position with a skirt on. I also have to add, that snow and ice get stuck in its little “ass” crack and is very hard to remove from the weird rubbery coating, so I have it wear a shower cap when it’s sleeping. The cap is black and white leopard print. I bought it at Dollarama for a buck 50 and can’t believe no one has appropriated it yet.
I spend a lot of time bouncing around the pre-PanAm construction ridden patchy pavement, hovering just above my seat so my boobs don’t fall off from the relentless impact. I have very strong thighs now.
But the new luggage rack is a beauty! Solid! Came with a reflector attached. I forget the brand. I also love the chain guard. It means I don’t have to tie up my pant leg.
And my favourite part: Those gorgeous grippy hybrid slickers/winter treads. Winter’s almost over now, and there’s not much we can’t do.

after

three speed

My last bike, a ca. 1973 Raleigh Cruiser had three speeds, but only the second gear worked after I owned it about a month. I just stayed in second gear. I did that for almost a year, summer, winter. I stopped missing the other gears. I forgot all about them.
My previous bike had seven. Seven was perfect! The old Miele got me up hills whistling effortlessly, where before I was gasping for air and finally getting off and pushing. Broadview, you know that first hill right before the view of the valley and the city scape on the left, and then that second even steeper hill, no view, and even if there was, you couldn’t enjoy it, you’d be busy pedalling, balancing, and breathing so hard.
I also think the Miele had a broader range than my previous bike – meaning lowest gear was probably a little bit easier than lowest gear on my 5 speed, my previous previous bike. But I found myself changing gears all the time on the Miele. It became a habit, not a necessity. I’d had it fitted with one of those beautiful ergonomic Shamano thumb shifters.
That was seven speeds. It was a luxury. It meant never having to pedal too hard, or too fast.
So then, what’s the deal with 12 speeds? 18, 24, 27 speeds? Do you even need twenty-seven speeds?  Tell me what’s really the difference between 18th and 19th gear? I wanna know!
The real question is, does first gear on a 12 speed get you up a hill easier than on a 7 speed? What city even has a hill steep enough to need what first gear on a 27-speed bike theoretically promises you can easily climb?
So I did a little research. The range between lowest and highest gear can differ from bike to bike no matter how many speeds it has. But what I also learned from reading this article is that with all these speeds you can’t, or shouldn’t even use them all. The cogs can stack up quite wide. If your chain is on the largest sprocket in the back and on the smallest at the crank, it runs diagonally and covers more length from rear wheel to chain wheel. That way you stretch the chain, and wear it out too fast.
The main advantage to having that many speeds, or as many speeds that requires two sets of cogs is that you can choose which side to shift depending on whether you need to skip a few speeds.
Still not sure, how many speeds you actually end up using.

So for a year I made do with only second gear. Now I ride a three speed, a brand new bone coloured Simcoe, named Windy, built for Toronto Winters, with internal gears, nice treads, customized handle bar and stem for the perfect angle, and a new Selle Royal seat, that took me two weeks to get comfortable on. I rarely change gears now, just stay in second most of the time. But every now and then I wish I had something between second and third gear. One speed is fine. Three is somehow not enough.

the killer hole

A tree died on the promenade by the water’s edge. There’s a long row of them about 10 feet apart. They’re each planted in a round hole in the concrete about 4 feet in diametre with a raised concrete lip about 2 inches high. The tree on the end died. It was always in the way, because the path gets narrower there.  The next path is angled in a way that makes it hard to get around the massive bed.
Actually, I don’t remember the tree, but I remember the stump. For months I looked at and navigated around it.
They finally came and took it out, the tree stump, at which point someone probably said, What are we gonna do with this big hole? And someone else probably said, I know! Let’s fill it up with the same colour gravel. It’ll be almost like it’s not really there!
Almost.
At dusk a street lamp casts a shadow of another tree on that exact spot. It really does look like it’s not there. But it’s there.
The way the connecting path is situated it leads exactly through the centre of the invisible hole. The day after they took the stump out of the hole and filled it up with gravel I rode through it. It was also the day after I got my new bike. I felt myself go over the edge, sink down into the gravel like sand, panic, and come out the other side with a big lurch that threw me up off my seat. my feet off my pedals. When I landed back on my seat. My shin hit the pedal, and made a big bruise.
The next day I called 311. What’s the address, the bored woman on the phone said.  We had to determine if the area was city property. I don’t know the address. It’s a park, I said. It’s behind 55 Harbour Square.
We agreed I would navigate her there from the nearest intersection on a map she was looking at. That took at least 10 minutes. From there you go towards the lake, then you turn left, I said. That’s east? Yes, you can’t go west, cause that’s the quay.
I really don’t think she figured out exactly where it is.  And I also really don’t think she understood what the big deal was. I explained it to her a couple of times. Someone is going to get hurt. That took at least 10 more.
She took my name and phone number and email address. I’ll pass it on to my supervisor, and we might get back to you in case we have questions, she said.
That night I saw a fresh tire track trough the gravel pit. The following night I watched a man ride through it, lurch, look back to see WTF. I was going to roll a garbage can into the centre, but they’re all chained down.
It’s been over a week. No one has bothered to mark off the area, paint the edge, stick an orange cone in. There is now more gravel around the pit than in it, There’s a new tire rut in it every time I pass it. It’s still invisible in the dark.
I have some pink spray paint! Maybe I should take care of it myself, but I don’t want to get caught vandalizing city property.
Well, at least I know where that hole is.
After two more weeks of no action and more fresh tracks through the gravel pit almost daily, they finally came and planted a skinny new oak tree.

by the way, windy's not white

Bone, officially, so says the manufacturer, Simcoe. But really that slightly greyish warmish off-white of almond milk.
Or Nougat! Actually.
38 lbs of metal, plastic, leatherette, and disintegrating 40 yr-old padding is my brand new Simcoe. And a red silk rose in her hair.  A red, black and Nougat-coloured Tango queen. Windy.

perspective

The other day I had the joy of placing an ad on Craigslist:
Lost Sun Hat: Last Sunday I went through a pothole on Sherbourne going north towards The Esplanade on my bike, and didn’t notice my hat fall out of my rear basket. You were driving behind me and you honked at me. I get honked at all the time in construction zones, because I often take up the whole lane. I turned around to communicate patience please.

When I got home I realized my mistake. I went back to see if my hat was around. It wasn’t. Did you pick it up?
Good hats are hard to find. And I feel like an asshole. Thank you for honking! Ugh.
(the hat looks almost exactly like this one I found on the internet)

Here is its fictional counterpart. I seriously looked for it the first couple of days:
Sun Hat Found: Dear cyclist. You dropped your hat off the back of your bike. I was driving behind you. You were taking up the whole lane. When you hit that pothole your hat flew out. I tried to tell you and I honked, but you turned around and waved your arm as if to say, cool your car-centric jets!
Now I have your hat!  It’s a nice one.

buying a bike is like falling in love

Really! It’s super emotional. And you kind of take a chance, too.
Riding around the store and around the block is like a first date. Some dating folks don’t call the first date a date. They call it “the obligatory introductory drink”, or “date zero”, and all sorts of other un-date-like things. But I digress!
So, you take some bikes out for a test drive, and you probably know that none of them is likely to be perfect. But you need a bike, just one bike, cause your last one tried to kill you, and you’re going to find one that’s pretty close, and gives you what you need.
Then you try one that’s really beautiful and comfortable, and it’s the right size, and colour and you can afford it. And you buy it, but there’s so much still to find out about it. Stuff you’ll only notice as you spend a little time with it, er, on it.
T​he only difference is, with a bike, if it’s not quite right, you can make it over and it doesn’t take offence. ​And it doesn’t break up with you. In fact you have to count on customizing your bike a little bit.  Even then you can’t have everything.
Especially if you’ve ever had your bike stolen. It’s a bit like being widowed, because what bike will ever measure up to the one that got away!
For example, I was looking for something very much like my old Miele, my beautiful lovely 40’s style two-tone white-walled Miele, that made old ladies and children smile! Upright, so my hands don’t hurt from leaning over, but not all the way upright, which makes it harder to maneuver. Something with winter tires, something low maintenance, with elegant lines, wide handlebars. Then I also wanted internal gears, … And as time passes, how long till I get used to the different shape? Does everything really work right? Is the bike going to live up to its name, to its promise of durability?
OK, never mind. Buying a bike is nothing like falling in love, …except now that I’ve fixed it all up, and it’s standing in my living room, I just can’t stop looking at it.

free bike

Got waved over by a police officer the other day. He was kind of friendly looking, and I reluctantly and dutifully stopped and he said, hi there, would you like to register your bike with the Toronto police? Behind him I saw some people milling about at a table near the entrance of the station on this beautiful late summer day. Makes it easier to keep track of it in case it gets stolen, he said, just takes 5 minutes. We’ll take your name and your serial number….
I don’t have a serial number, I thought.
Last year I bought an old bike. A banged up cornflower blue 1973 Raleigh cruiser. A pretty thing, especially with the purple bell, and the yellow and violet flowers on the baskets. I tried to register it back then, because my previous bike had been stolen, but when I finally found the place where the serial number should be I noticed it had been ground off. There’s probably only one reason someone would grind off a serial number. So my little Dusty has history, I thought. Good for her. In more recent  history, since I’ve owned her, she also lost the use of one of her three gears, and one of her brakes.
But she runs. I should say she ran. That changed later that day. Well, wait, she still runs! It’s the stopping that’s the problem! Or the lack of stopping. And it’s a fluke I didn’t get seriously mangled.
Old rusty Dusty tried to kill me, you see, but timing is everything, and hasty Dusty jumped the gun and missed.
I’ve been looking at new bikes. Dusty wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution, but what I want is very expensive. I was still contemplating putting some money into Dusty instead, but she would never be what I wanted her to be, so to be honest, I just put off the decision, frankly at the cost of my safety, and I’m a bit embarrassed about it.

I said to the officer, that was a great idea, but that I couldn’t do it right now, and he said I could also do it online, and I said, I’ll definitely do that!
Then I went to visit a friend.
On my way home I was slowing down at the end of my friend’s side street about to turn left, and down a very steep hill, but Dusty’s only working brake snapped inside the handle, and I was entirely brakeless, but coasting to a halt towards the edge of the main road.
I took a moment to consider the fate I’d just escaped. Then I made a decision that today was the first and last time Dusty and I would take the bus, and that tomorrow would be bike shopping day.

Taking the bus was fun. A couple of guys showed up at the bus stop, too. Really interesting characters carrying clear garbage bags full of old stuffed animals. One of them knew how to work the rack on the front of the bus and racked my bike for me. I knew in theory, had watched a video on YouTube, but had never done it. Getting the bike off was easy, but I forgot to flip the rack back up, and the bus driver had to come out, and reprimand me.
The next day I got a ride from a friend to the bike shop, tried out 3 bikes, and fell in love with the most expensive one. The mechanic gave it a little tune up, made sure everything was symmetrical, and tight, and buffed up the warm matte white body with a soft cloth. I said don’t make it too shiny or someone will steal it right from under me – just push me off: I want that! and ride away on my new bike.
At the cash register, the sales guy asked me if I had a good lock, then he told me my receipt had my serial number on it, and the website where I should register my bike with the Toronto police.
I hugged my “driver”, sent him home, and my new friend and I took our first, somewhat shaky, trip together. Everything works! What a treat.
I spent a lot of money, and I’m not quite done spending, but when I think about the money I’ve saved on bus fare in the last 5 years, it’s sort of like I’ve got a free bike!

so you wanna be treated like a grown-up

The other day, probably the last fine beach day this year, I was riding on a curbside bike path with my blanket in my back basket, thinking about catching the 9:30 am ferry to cityside paradise and lounging and chatting. I noticed a car creep up beside me and follow my speed. A police car, actually. The driver started talking to me. The officer, actually, started talking to me, and it took a moment to occur to me that I should probably stop.
He’d been telling me how he saw me cross the intersection back there on a red light, and how I shouldn’t do that, because then he has to give me a three hundred and fifty-five dollar ticket.
Did he say $355?, I thought!
No, I hadn’t! I crossed the first part of a two part pedestrian crossing on the pedestrian green, then hovered there waiting for the second part – and car traffic – to turn green. Of course, I didn’t say that, because I wanted to catch the ferry, and because that would have opened up a whole other discussion about why I thought it was ok not to dismount on a pedestrian crossing. $85 fine.
Oh, I said, with my most earnest and patient ferry-catching face. Sorry. OK. And since he didn’t seem inclined to write me said ticket, I quietly said, Thank you.
He reiterated once more that I can’t just do that, and I said thank you once more. And OK. And he moved on.
Whew.  $355! Did you know that? I had no idea. Last I checked the Ministry of Transportation the average fine was 85 dollars!
Today I did a little more research. Not my strong suit, but here is some information I found on the website of a group of “paralegals and former police officers” – not sure when this is dated; the fine seems to have gone up:
A red light ticket has four different penalties:

• Three demerit points
• A three hundred and twenty five ($325.00) dollar fine
• A conviction registered on your driving record for three years
• Possible insurance increases
• Determination of fault in accident cases

So you wanna take ownership of your part of the road, and be treated just like any other vehicle. I suppose it’s best to start behaving like one.  …355 dollars…..

maybe today

I’m not big on bike gear.  I’m not big on gear in general. Winter gear, coats, gloves, face cover. Or photography gear, tripods, lenses, flashes. All that is so cumbersome! That’s why I like the beach. Just me, barefoot and stuff, and the water.
So on a day to day basis I can’t stand carrying too much shit around, especially a change of clothes.  I don’t wear bike shorts and running shoes, and I don’t wear a helmet which has come up in debates many times.
So, I’m wearing my winter boots today. It’s a bit early but they’re new and cute and I wanted to give them a head start, see how they feel. They feel big. Makes me extra cautious, and a little paranoid.
Makes me think maybe today is the day for a mishap.  My foot will slip off the pedal when I stand up to push up a hill, or I’ll lose my balance going too slow on the sidewalk and fall onto a pedestrian, or get doored, or clipped from behind by a driver passing too close, forget to shoulder check before going around a pothole, choke on a song from my iPod, get into a fistfight with an arrogant driver, pedestrian, fellow cyclist, get my sleeve caught on the handle bar while reaching up to scratch my nose and accidentally veer into the path of a Mack Truck, get my miniskirt caught under my seat and fall over on the dismount. Or maybe today my front tire will suddenly come loose while I’m speeding down a hill.
These days are not about the shoes of course, or maybe the change in footware triggers a general anxiety, and that does make it harder to set out, to be honest. I get hyper aware of how vulnerable I am in the midst of people protected by metal frames, and that can be just as dangerous as not paying attention at all. I see things that aren’t there, red lights that aren’t mine, too many situations that could occur. I spend precious moments thanking the universe I wasn’t killed just now, moments that could be spent trying not to get killed.

And then it happened. I stopped on the Bloor viaduct on the way to a friend’s house for dinner and chats, to take some notes in the evening autumn sunshine. Getting back on my bike and about to merge into busy 6 pm bike lane traffic, my foot settled on the pedal at a weird angle and my right heel hit the chain guard on the way up and bent it into the way of the crank. I coasted back to the curb, got off and kicked the rusty chain guard back into place with my new winter boot.
Honestly, on an ordinary day, I think I ride slowly and comfortably enough to get along with regular clothing, but I contemplated again the proper shoes, and the skin tight jerseys. Yup, they serve a purpose.

recovery

No, I didn’t have an accident!
But isn’t life full of little accidents? What I mean is, there are parameters within which we can allow ourselves to be out of control.
For example: Last winter I wrote about how I watched a cyclist pass me on his massive easy step-through Biria slipping and sliding in a thick growing layer of fluffiness without a care, because he knew that he would slip only so far and still right himself automatically. His thick tires slid down into the unexpected grooves of the uneven ground hidden under the fresh snow, but that did not disturb my fellow rider, who rode on with certainty of his graceful recovery. He soon was out of sight, and I followed on foot in his tracks.
This made me think that we recover all the time, in fact each step we take is a miniscule ever so brief loss of balance. Between the time when we pick up one foot and the time we put it down in front of the other we trust that we will land safely on both feet again.
If I may digress and say this applies so much more broadly. It applies to art, and music, and relationships. It’s about trust, and experience, and skill.
A brush stroke comes out the way it does not because the artist controls every split second, and every angle of every individual muscle in her hand, but because she has made many brush strokes before, and experienced a pattern in their outcome.
A singer can allow a note to come out false and harsh, only to glide into key, and resolve in the most beautiful sound. It’s even more desirable and interesting than a singer who is always in control.
What would our relationships be like if we didn’t get a chance to fight and make up? How much anxiety would we experience from the constant fear of conflict?
So, how do we determine these parameters? How do we determine how far out of control is too far?
Practise and experience help us gain the skills to make graceful barely noticeable recoveries all day, and keep our lives exciting.

get off the road

It’s amazing how many drivers still don’t really understand traffic law, and the definition of a vehicle.
Wide open space, 4 lanes, 2 each way, nobody around. I look over my shoulder, then change lanes to gear up for a left turn. As I’m drifting a bit, in my lane, behind me appears a car, in my lane. I know this because he honks his horn. Now, there’s another lane right beside my lane. And it’s wide open. I look over my shoulder to see what he wants, and he makes a huge show of having to go around me, and waves his hands frantically and arrogantly towards the curb to indicate where I belong.
I have to admit at this point I acted very unladylike and did a little arm flailing myself. Then I stuck my arm out to complete my left turn and noticed a bored construction cop standing there having witnessed the whole thing.

assumptions and deductions

I was waiting for a green light, hugging the curb, when a man in a pickup pulled up beside me, craned his neck towards me across the passenger side, raised his eyebrows, and waved his arm around to show he was interested in making a right turn, and was it ok for him to proceed.
That made me so happy!
On one hand I thought, where would I go? I have a red light, just like you. Can’t go straight, and if I’d wanted to make a right turn, I’d have probably already done it. He still took the time to communicate – and he did it with a friendly grin!
But most people aren’t so generous. In fact, in drawing conclusions, they often forget about a key piece of information, the existence of bicycles on the road.
Say you’re a motorist making a left turn out of a driveway. On your left, a big truck is parked, presumably blocking all traffic from that direction, and most likely blocking your view. Traffic in the opposite direction, from your right, is moving. You deduce there is no room for anyone to get around the truck. You see an opening coming from the right. You are sure the coast is clear. You stop looking – and thinking – and go.
Cyclists are small. We can do the unexpected, even without breaking the rules. Despite the oncoming traffic, I fit around this two-storey monster loaded with brand new sedans. But I know all kinds of dangers can lurk around any corner. I don’t assume the coast is clear on the other side of the truck, until i see the coast is clear. I slow down, I see you charge out of the driveway, I let you pass. Another catastrophe averted. Why? Because assumptions can kill you!
Another dangerous assumption is that one thing naturally leads to another, just because they logically should. The simplest example is, it’s easy to assume someone is going straight just because they aren’t signaling, and it’s easy to assume that someone is going to turn, just because their signal is flashing! Don’t assume.
But the most dangerous assumption that can be made by anyone on the road is the assumption by a cyclist that they are seen, generally visible enough, and in a specific situation has been spotted. The killer assumption that usually follows is that a driver will watch out for him and give him the right of way or enough room to make surprise maneuvres. In fact, to some degree this is true! Most drivers seem to have adapted to the frequent erratic arrogance coming their way on two wheels. Nobody wants to kill anyone. It may seem that way to some, but most people would rather not have the hassle in their lives.
A driver will cede. Reluctantly. If he sees you, sees you in time. And if he can predict within a reasonable margin what you’re about to do.
So, communicate. Be predictable, and if not, visible and patient. Signal, whichever way you think is clear. Make eye-contact to ensure for yourself that a driver has figured out what you’re up to and is willing to give you the space to do it. Say thank you! Show appreciation any way you can, even if he was only giving you your deserved right of way. Nod, wave, grin. It may make a difference in how a driver will treat the next cyclist.

FFS - think about it

I was riding in the bike lane approaching a bus waiting to make a right turn. He was in my way. He was in my lane. Just standing there, waiting for some dawdling pedestrians to cross the street. I looked over my shoulder and swerved to go around him on the left. He started turning then, at the same time a pickup truck came out of that side street to make a left turn. The driver obviously had no idea I was there, but I’d seen him, so I slowed down.  I got pretty close to him, but I don’t mind giving the right of way, because it beats being run over.
Behind him, surprisingly, and much more dangerous than an oblivious pedestrian, appeared an oblivious fellow cyclist going the wrong way, on my bike lane, at regular speed. When we spotted each other we stuttered a bit, then almost collided.

Never assume that someone very proximate isn’t just in the middle of doing something stupid and unpredictable.  And when doing something stupid and unpredictable yourself – and we all end up doing unpredictable, even stupid things, if only by momentary distraction, that we’re sure we’ve really really thought through – please!  Make sure that you have.

where'd ya get the biria?

Stranger with white helmet: Noticed you going westbound on Queens Quay today around 11:45. I had decided to walk because of the snow storm. It is better to leave my bike at home in the morning than at work in the evening.
You passed me on the sidewalk, a little close I must say, on your funny-looking Biria Easy Boarding Bicycle.
I watched you ride away through some terrain that defies everything I thought I knew about riding in the snow, bouncing and wriggling through whatever was hidden under the inch or two of new fluffiness, including lumps of ice and construction debris, and through a 4-inch snow drift rounding the corner on the sidewalk up a ways. I know this because I had the opportunity to follow your tracks most of my way, no footsteps anywhere, just the two snakes of wide tread of the brave tires on your magic bike, until I thought I’d lost you at the entrance to the Westin Harbour Castle, where I stopped a while to investigate where you might have gone, and would it be worth it to find you and pick your brain. Did you buy the tires separately? Do you park your bike outside? Where d’ya get it?
I happen to have seen this bike online just yesterday, and couldn’t find a dealer for it.
Later I picked up your tracks again, they led me to a side entrance of one of the many condos where they ended right at the little back door, and at least one of my questions was answered.

almost home now don't get cocky

It’s ok to unclench your hands and jaw now, but don’t get too comfortable, close to home is where most people get into accidents.
Every year, when the snow hits, I’m a little surprised at how un-slippery it is.  It feels a bit out of control while your tires are finding the pavement, but people expect it to feel like riding on a skating rink – years ago I did – but it compares much better to riding on a beach.
Every year I remember that I meant to buy goggles. When I rode to work yesterday I didn’t realize I had the wind in my back. I also didn’t realize it would keep snowing all day long. I might have left my bike at home, but I hate to be stuck walking after a storm when the sun has come out, and everything has been cleared.
I worked hard coming home! I had to hop off and push through a few stretches of soft ‘n’ fluffy. Intersections are difficult because the criss-cross of tire tracks turns into sort of a maze of snowbanks. But the biggest hurdle last night was the wind. It’s hard to hop back on the bike, when both the ground and the air are keeping you from gaining momentum. There was lots of traffic, presumably Christmas shoppers. They didn’t seem as frantic and desperate (and dangerous) as last year, or maybe it’s still early. I didn’t enjoy the masses of cars, but without their ruts I woudn’t have ridden at all!
I keep forgetting, the city waits a certain amount of time before they plough/ re-plough the streets. Surprisingly, a lot of the sidewalks were clear! A matter of timing, I suppose.
My usual 15 minute trip home took me 45 minutes.  After about 10 I was just a big wet sponge of sweat, my eyes were watering because snow flakes feel like needles in that wind – a visor can’t keep out horizontal precipitation – and my eyebrows were riddled with icicles because condensation was coming up from my covered mouth and nose. But when I got home and upstairs into the warmth, I felt calm.
I never ride fast or far, so cardio is not part of my daily riding experience, but it was last night!

it's snowstorm time again

Today I experienced that first snow storm of the season on a new set of two wheels! My dainty little Raleigh passed the test.

When setting out on a snowy day don’t count on the bike path, or the sidewalk. Forget about those till spring time. Get visible, but seriously visible! Keep your eyes open; keep a constant eye on the terrain. Try to avoid the nice soft pillows of fluffy pretty snow. They are the devil. Dangerous obstacles are concealed under there, curbs, pot holes, metal grates, debris, ice.
Find the place in the lane that has the most grip, usually pretty much the middle, where drivers want to be, where they have already made a nice path for you. Yeah, they’re gonna get a bit mad. I don’t recommend this during rush hour, or in a whiteout, but have your lights on, wear bright clothes, and as long as you are seen, you’re as safe as… usual, whatever that means. This morning they were very well behaved, probably because they were as uncertain as I was.

Riding in the snow, it comes back to you. You’ll remember that a bit of slipping is normal, it’s not exactly slipping, it’s more like a different margin of control. It takes a bit of time to become comfortable with it again. In the meantime you might look like you don’t know what you’re doing, because you’re so focussed on the street, and you’re all clenched, and bent forward and ready to jump off.
It’s hard to command respect that way. So, of course I got honked at. By the driver of a TTC bus! Who urgently needed to beat me to the red light ahead. I looked over my shoulder, to make sure  he wasn’t too close or too fast, stuck out my left arm and crossed the lane to the other side to prepare for my turn.
I will not be intimidated.
When I arrived at work and started to lock my bike I did notice that my hands were shaking.
Did I mention to stay visible?

dear motorist transcript

This is a video appealing to everyone, drivers and cyclists, to be more mindful in traffic.  I made a transcript so that I could break it down, and discuss some of the points in separate blogs in the future, and to make the content more accessible.
[sz-youtube url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Euu2QRIuEPk” /]
Over the last 10 years, 6,957 cyclists have been killed. Our goal is to save at least one. Cyclists have written the following letters.
Dear motorist,
Dear motorist,
Dear motorist,
I am a mother.
I am a daughter.
I am a cyclist.
Over the years cycling has kept me healthy. It has given me a way to escape from the pressures and stresses that life can bring.
I’m out there riding my bike to stay healthy, to enjoy the beautiful place where I live, and simply because I love it.  I love the wind on my face, the sun on my back, the scenery flashing by and the feeling of satisfaction I get from living an active lifestyle.
Dear motorist, I’m not a cyclist, but I’m a husband. I have a wife; she loves to ride. Someone almost hit her the other day. My heart stopped when I heard the news.
I know that cyclists can be annoying, when they ride in your lane, force you to slow down and wait before turning. Until I bought a bike I too was easily irritated by cyclists impeding my commute.
[interview:] The thing that a lot of motorists don’t realize is that cyclists are gonna put themselves into whatever position they feel safest.
When you are driving your car and road conditions become dangerous you move around them to keep yourself safe. It is the same with cyclists.
I’ve taken a right-hand turn in my car and nearly missed a cyclist I failed to see around the corner. I’ve been cycling on the shoulder of the road and almost hit by a distracted driver. I live on both sides of this discussion.
I recently had a good friend of mine killed while riding his bike. It was tragic and unnecessary. He was too young to die.
My friend lost his life doing what he loved. Doing what I love.
He had a wife and four kids. I wanna be there for my family. He no longer can be.
It is easy to feel invincible, like you are the exception to the rule, like it would never happen to you or to somebody you know. In an instant his wife’s and 4 young children’s lives were changed forever, and not just theirs, but the life of that motorist will never be the same, either.
[interview:] I think that’s everybody’s worst fear, um, is actually having taken someone’s life, or even injuring somebody. Um, I can’t imagine the guilt I would feel, um… not only for the person that I injured, but for everybody else in that person’s life.
My friend does not have to live with that memory every day, but the driver who hit him will live with that guilt every single day, for the rest of his life.
[interview:] I’ve had a really hard time getting back on my bike since the accident, because I’m afraid that every car I hear coming from behind is gonna hit me, and I just don’t wanna ride that way.
I’m at the mercy of the motorists I’m sharing the road with. You are bigger than me. You are travelling faster than me. If we collide my chance of injury is a hundred times greater than yours.
Every single person’s life is worth a few seconds of your time.
[interview:] I understand where cyclists would be angry with the situation. I understand where motorists get frustrated with slower moving objects on the road.
I’ve seen my fellow cyclists do some really not so smart things on the road, and it hurts me to think this is where our image comes from.
[interview:] I think it can be avoided by both parties. Cyclists need to be conscientious of drivers, and obeying the laws, and not just assume that drivers are gonna look out for them.
As a cyclist I pledge that I will be as visible as possible, to stay as much out of your way as possible.
I’ve made a new commitment to myself: I will stop the distractions when I’m behind the wheel.
Please slow down and drive cautiously. There isn’t anything that’s going to happen while you’re driving that’s more important than the actual act of driving.
I don’t want to leave my kids without a mother, because I didn’t respect you as a motorist, and you didn’t respect me as a cyclist. More importantly I want you to respect my kids, even if they are still learning to respect you. So my plea is for us all to be safe, to be aware, be courteous, and to share the road.
Sincerely, your friend
Sincerely, your brother
Sincerely, a mother
Sincerely, a cyclist’s husband
Sincerely, a cyclist
Pledge to be more aware at:
Dear Motorist  (.com)

there's more room on the sidewalk

If you’ve already shouted “What pros?”  then you might want to go read something else. But I’d like you to be able to stay, read on and give me your opinion. When you’re finished reading.
It’s probably not a good idea to ride on the sidewalk, and in the end not even worth the hassle, and incidentally in Toronto, also illegal, but you might  find that there are some good reasons to do it. Hear me out.

well, let’s talk about this

Let’s first take a look at the reasons not to. The sidewalk is a minefield of opportunities for collison.  If you’re moving at a fairly regular bicycle speed, you’re doing it wrong. If you’re passing pedestrians, get off the sidewalk now. There’s no safe way to pass an unsuspecting pedestrian. I woudn’t bother ringing my bell, you’ll just be seen as the rude trespasser asking the proprietor to kindly lurch out of your way. For more detail on the dangers of collision on the sidewalk, you can take a look at my article about the peculiar behaviours of pedestrians.  And kids! A little kid can break free from his parent’s hand and be under your wheel in a second, when you thought you had ample room to do your thing.
Pedestrians can suddenly appear from out of doorways, and from behind corners. Plus, to a pedestrian you’re taller, and harder, and faster than he is, and threatening, and just not supposed to be there at all. People will get pretty protective of their turf. Some pedestrians will glare at you even if you’re meters away just because they feel that you are getting away with something.  and some just because you HAVE a bike on the sidewalk, even if you’re not sitting on it.
The dangers to you:  Curbs and driveways! You can get seriously killed coming off a curb at a speed a driver doesn’t expect from something on a sidewalk!
Oh,… fines! I haven’t met anyone who has been fined, but they are steep, last I researched.
So then, why would you want to ride on the sidewalk?
Some people are too scared to ride on city streets. With very good reason! The bike path infrastructure in Toronto is very limited!
My aunt for example has terrible pain in her feet, but gets around wonderfully on a tricycle. She’s very nervous in traffic, as one would be, when one goes slowly and is wide. Midtown streets are narrow. Drivers can be aggressive. So she rides on the sidewalk. We never discussed it, but I’m sure she has good judgement and rules she lives by. She wants to be safe, and respectful, and she is no doubt patient and ready to stop and give the right of way. She is after all aware of being in someone else’s territory.
Single lane traffic. It’s a construction zone and the lane is so narrow, nobody can safely pass me. If there are a dozen cars lined up behind me all bubbling with rage and resentment, and the sidewalk is empty and about the same width as the lane, I will opt for the sidewalk. It’s just the better choice!
During a heatwave, when there is shade on the other side of the street, and i’m about to wilt or be turned into a crispy cracker, I will find room on that sidewalk on the other side. If I see an available bike rack down the street on the opposite side, but my chance to cross is now I will end up on the sidewalk for a small stretch.

Ok, so maybe you’re thinking they are pretty good reasons to be on the sidewalk, but why not get off and push? Well, beside the fact that it would defeat the whole purpose for my aunt, I don’t think I should have to. Many townships don’t make riding on the sidewalk illegal. Riding on the sidewalk should work perfectly well. Bike paths through a park can be no wider than a sidewalk and there are easy rules that make sharing possible.

• Don’t go slower than you can manage balancing.
• Don’t get close to anyone without warming. Speak, don’t ring. Stop when uncertain.
• Be aware of everything that could happen around you, 360 degrees, and be ready to jump off.
• Be patient. If you must pass someone, ask politely to squeeze by.
• Say please and thank you, and smile.

If you conduct yourself respectfully with a well-thought-out code you can be safer than a personal mobility device, or a stroller, a child on a scooter or roller-blades, or a person pulling a suitcase. I see nothing wrong with scooting along, one foot on a pedal, bike under me, the other foot pushing off on the other side, ready to stop on a dime. Have you ever noticed that you actually take up less space that way, than if you pushed your bicycle beside you? You can lose your balance trying not to hit your ankle! The only time I will ever collide with a pedestrian on a sidewalk is when a multi-tasking pedestrian trips and falls right into me, but as a wise friend has pointed out, it would still be deemed my fault.

So, are we cyclists really arrogant rule breakers? Apart from riding on sidewalks we do a whole lot of other illegal and insolent things, make rolling stops, run red lights, cross intersections diagonally, sometimes cutting things really close, inconveniencing others or putting them in danger, squeeze past a row of cars on the right (cause it’s just so difficult for us to have to wait in traffic), go down the wrong way on a one-way street (cause we’re special, and we shouldn’t have to do detours). And some of us expect the rest of the population to make way, and even to be the ones to pay attention and protect our safety from our own foolish carelessness. How often have you seen a cyclist do something so dangerous, like swerve around a pothole or pass another cyclist in dense traffic without looking over his shoulder? And how often have you seen a cyclist go through a red light, almost hit a pedestrian whose turn it was to cross the street, and then yell at them? Who wouldn’t be paranoid and full of indignation!
My friend says: “I’m a conscientious rule breaker.” Sure, me too. I get the Using Your Judgement, and the Rules Are For The Thoughtless.  But what we conscientious rule breakers need to keep in mind is, well, first off, that we’re breaking the rules, and it doesn’t matter now much we think these conscientious things we do make sense, or how much sense they really do make, or how careful or how respectful we are. There are two things to consider when breaking the rules, there are the things we do, and there is the impact we have on the people who see us do them.
Some say we should follow the laws, and everything will be fine. I’m not sure that would solve the confrontational aspect of the situation. Besides, it doesn’t sit right with me. Am I to stop at every stop sign even when nobody’s around? Well, yes, but will I? I don’t think so especially since there are communities that have such exceptions actually written into the by-laws.
But somehow we do have to reverse the damage we’ve done by taking liberties. I don’t blame anyone who feels intimidated and retaliates. We’ve stopped communicating. We’re all impatient with one another. We don’t think about others as much as we should. We’re always in a hurry. We’ve become resentful and we’re up in arms about the smallest things. We have to give, not take. We have to show appreciation and understanding. We have to use forethought. We have to educate ourselves, and we have to show respect, and kindness, above all.
If I’m anywhere near a person on the sidewalk you can’t tell me apart from a pedestrian, a weird polite pedestrian, because I talk a lot more and I yield to everyone. Also I’m strangely bicycle shaped, and well, my feet may be off the ground at times.  So, that’s one problem solved, you’d think. The other problem is the much bigger one. To a previously terrorized pedestrian, it doesn’t matter how loving a pit bull I am, I’m still a pit bull in a yard full of bunnies!