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.