Two wheels good, two legs better.
Until last fall, I was an avid cyclist. I rode my crappy $110 Supercycle all over town, even in winter. Most times it got me where I wanted in the same time it takes to wait for a streetcar in rush hour.
But after my bike broke down last November and would’ve been more costly to fix than to replace, I hung up my helmet and reflective gear, detached the cute little turtle lights from my backpack and started walking everywhere.
Within a couple of weeks of pounding the pavement (hint: it’s all about leaving yourself enough time and programming your iPod), something weird happened. I began looking at cyclists with something like fear, especially on that narrow obstacle course called Queen West, with its jaywalkers, parallel parkers and treacherous streetcar tracks.
Had I really been one of those foolhardy road warriors not so long ago? Cyclists are just so… vulnerable – to suddenly opened car doors, crater-sized potholes (I’m looking at you, Parliament Street!), idiots making right-hand turns without signalling.
Of course, I knew all this when I rode. I’d received the door prize a few times. A good friend, a physician (and ex-cyclist), had completed a rotation in a downtown emergency ward and described the dozens of riders he’d treated who looked like something out of a zombie movie. At the time, I didn’t care. I was invincible.
But now that I’d seen life from the other side of the curb, it all made sense. Plus, more than ever, I began to notice how reckless some cyclists can be. Like a pack-a-day guy who can’t stand the smell of smoke after kicking the habit, I became tougher on cyclists than when I rode myself.
Gonna run a red light when I’m crossing? Gonna silently ride up behind me on the sidewalk? If that tire touches me, asshole, I’m calling the cops.
Now that spring’s finally arrived, however, I miss the feeling of bombing down a deserted street at midnight, the cool air lapping my face. Hell, I even miss that little moment when you’re cranking the gears to get up a hill and by chance hit a red light so you can catch your breath and look around while maintaining your dignity.
That Bixi station a block from my home is beginning to look pretty attractive.
glenns@nowtoronto.com
