On the one hand, bike lanes afford more room. Yet, on the other hand, a motorist is less likely to see a cyclist who is riding in the bike lane or near the curb.
If I had to choose, I would rather a motorist blare their horn at me, yell at me, or even throw something at me or pick a fight with me, than have them unintentionally kill or harm me. That’s why I strive to take the entire lane.
Yet, I somehow still allow those white stripes to lull me into a false sense of security. Perhaps I suspend practical thinking because it feels good to perceive bike lanes as a form of public acceptance for cyclists.
Now that I think of it, I wonder what’s stopping me from rejecting those bike lanes along Morse Road between Maize and Cleveland, and opting instead to bike in the middle of the regular lane. I can imagine someone yelling from their car or truck, “use the f—king bike lane!” Perhaps that someone could even be a well-intentioned cyclist who happens to be driving or riding in a car that day.
In a few days, I may find out how far I will go in terms of applying this idea about rejecting bike lanes in favor of cycling in the middle of the regular lane. I don’t expect to be in that part of town until later in the week. I intend it to be an experiment as I refine my cycling efforts. Are there benefits to bike lanes I am overlooking ?
Also, about this strategy of taking the entire lane in order to be seen, I admit it only goes so far. It likely doesn’t work well in scenarios that involve very intoxicated motorists or, for example, motorists having a seizure, heart attack, or a stroke.
But in at least some situations, getting in the way of motorists and forcing them to either slow down or commit themselves to a conscious choice of hitting me is a political act.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy harmony with motorists. For example, yesterday while stopped at an intersection, a man sang out through the window of his aging sedan part of a stanza from Jethro Tull’s “Aqualung,” picking up where I had left off when I stopped singing in order to spray my tonsils with a jet from my water bottle.
My experience as a motorist has contributed to my ambivalence toward bike lanes. I am compellingly aware of the blind-spots between the doors and the windshield of my car.
And I admit to knowing first-hand about how multitasking while driving seems to impair my ability to notice people or objects in the periphery.
Since cycling avidly, I now strive to not even have the radio or CD player on while driving, not mention refraining from using my phone. Come to think of it, the next time I have a passenger I will invite her or him to assist me with being vigilant as we motor along.
If I had to choose in terms of how our city invests its tax dollars, bike lanes are not as good as signs telling motorists to share the road with cyclists. (If I had my way, I would add pedestrians and skateboarders, rollerbladers, and people in wheelchairs to that list. But now we’re talking billboards all over the place!) Reducing speed limits and enforcing them would be a good idea also
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