Hey, hey! Ho, ho! Self-righteous cyclists have to go!

The current Mayor of Seattle is known as the “Bike Mayor.”  As if a city overrun by self-righteous cyclists needed any help being more obnoxious, they now have one of their own at the helm.  I suppose I shouldn’t assume that Mayor McGinn is self-righteous – I’ve actually met him a few times and he seems smart and nice enough – but he is definitely a power-to-the-cyclist type.  He is well known for bike commuting and even had his bike stolen from City Hall, which I must admit, I found hilarious.  I’m guessing he definitely has the “give cyclists three feet of space on all sides” bumper sticker – the one with the three little footprints – on his car.  (For years I thought that bumper sticker was an anti-abortion statement – something along the lines of “even three second old zygotes have footprints.”  Note to cycling community: that graphic is not clear or effective.)  To really clinch his Bike Mayor status McGinn recently hired a controversial bicycle advocate to fill a nearly $100,000 per year “Transportation Advisor” position.  With that in mind, I’m going to quit biting my tongue and start saying whatever I want, no matter how politically insensitive, because if this David Hiller guy can get a job like that for publically saying, "I'd love to hang these people (drivers who injure cyclists) up by their toenails at the edge of town and paint `killer' across their chest and let them hang there until the buzzards peck their eyes out,” I think I could come up with some high-earning doozeys myself!  Well, Mayor McGinn will be up for reelection in two years and I just might have to run against him on an anti-self-righteous cyclist platform. 

Mike McGinn, Seattle's "Bike Mayor"

I should be clear that I’m not anti-cycling.  I enjoy bike riding and have fond memories of all my past bikes – back to my very first, a small purple model with training wheels.  My first “big girl” bike was bright pink, with a white plastic basket on the front, streamers flowing from the handlebars, an awesome banana seat and the word “Tapestry” painted on the side.  The Tapestry and I shared many great adventures until I got my first ten-speed – a metallic red beauty that I dearly loved.  See, I’m not a bike hater; I just hate a good portion of the people that ride them.  It’s like the saying, “Guns don’t kill people.  People with guns kill people.”  Well, bikes aren’t self-righteous, people who ride them are.

Cyclists always seem to want it both ways.  They want to utilize roads and have the rights of motorized vehicles, but think they don’t have to abide by any of the laws or uphold any of the responsibilities.  Cyclists pass on the right, turn without advance notice, weave between cars and whiz through intersections without bothering to stop.  All this would be annoying enough, but the real kicker is their attitude of righteous indignation when they perceive their precious rights have been infringed upon.  Guess what?  Cars accidentally bump into each other all the time – sometimes people are careless or distracted or simply don’t see something.  We all know that automobiles are dangerous – I was reminded of that fact recently when a careless driver sped through a red light, causing a major collision with me.  After making fairly certain I wasn’t seriously injured, I called 911 and acted like a mature adult.  I didn’t jump out of the car and scream at the other driver, even though the accident was totally his fault.  We take risks when we get behind the wheel.  Granted, drivers are more protected by the frame of the car and safety equipment like seat belts and air bags, while cyclists are very exposed, but taking that risk is a choice cyclists make.  And when an accident happens or nearly happens, most drivers don’t scream at and berate the other person.  (I say “most” because I do realize there is some serious road rage out there these days.) 

Cyclists on the other hand, consistently exhibit very poor behavior.  I’ve had cyclists yell at me and threaten me on several occasions and have watched them do it to other people countless times.  My first experience with a self-righteous cyclist was in high school.  It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, school was out and I was cruising along Highway 101.  I started slowing down to make a right turn into the driveway of my mom’s office building and noticed two cyclists heading in the same direction, about to cross the same driveway.  The male cyclist made it across the driveway before I got there, but the female cyclist and I were clearly arriving at the exact same time.  I saw her.  She saw me.  We made eye contact and did the car/bike version of when you’re sharing a walkway with someone and, in trying to go around each other, you do the awkward back-and-forth in the same direction thing a number of times until someone starts laughing and says, “Shall we dance?”  Traffic was backing up and it seemed liked the cyclist was going to let me go, so I went.  She went too and we crashed into each other.  Well, crashed might be a strong word seeing as I was barely moving.  Her left pedal scraped the bottom of my passenger door and she tipped over.  I stopped and the male cyclist ran over to see if she was OK.  Before I could get out of the car, she sprang to her feet, pushed her cycling companion out of the way and stormed around to my driver’s side.  She was wild-eyed and screaming profanities.  Completely terrified, I rolled up my window, locked my door and hunkered down.  Male cycling companion kept trying to back her off, but she pushed him away over and over as she pounded on my window and yelled at me to get out of the car.  I considered her request (not really) and decided against complying.  Eventually my mom noticed what was going on and came to my rescue, as did several workers and customers from the nearby A & W.  As it turned out, psycho bike lady was fine.  She had a tiny scratch on her leg, while I had a gigantic scratch in my paint.  She went along her merry cycling way and I had to suffer the wrath of my parents for scratching my practically brand new car. 

In the years since, I’ve experienced the fury of self-righteous cyclists several times.  One time, I had a cyclist scream and shake his fist at me for almost hitting him when he flew through a stop sign, going the wrong way on a one-way street.  I know, how DARE I?!  I can’t even count how many times I’ve watched a cyclist weave in between two lanes of stopped traffic and then get indignant when they almost get hit by a mirror as traffic begins moving again.

My most recent cyclist run-in happened in my front yard.  We were, despite our extreme reluctance, having a garage sale.  Our neighborhood has a community-wide sale annually and, over the past couple of years as our basement has filled with boxes of baby gear and our garage has become nothing but a parking zone for strollers, trikes and various toddler-mobiles, we’ve begrudgingly considered participating.  This year the motivation finally overpowered the reluctance and we decided to go for it.  We were ready bright and early and I was thrilled to make our first sale mere moments after the official start time.  Our second sale was $50 for two toddler riding toys and some baby clothes.  This garage sale business was better than I thought it would be.  Customers kept coming and I was giddy every time we sold something I considered to be an old, unwanted piece of crap for cold hard cash.  Someone paid $5 for a 1970’s era vacuum cleaner that may not have even worked anymore.  I honestly would have paid them $10 to haul it away for me.  Things were going great. 

Early afternoon brought a brief lull in shopper traffic.  As we sat on our front steps watching Chester play in the yard, we noticed a car about a block and a half away.  The driver had her window down and was talking to a cyclist who had pulled up next to her; he clearly wasn’t happy.  After their brief conversation, the driver parked and got out of her car to check out our sale.  I believe this woman, who was probably in her mid-60s and all of about five feet tall and 90 pounds, would have been a $50 customer at least.  She headed straight for the baby items and had “proud grandma” written all over her.  Sadly, I never got to find out if my newly honed garage sale instincts were correct because Jackass Cyclist ruined everything.  He followed Sweet Shopping Grandma to our house and brought his bike onto the sidewalk to continue yelling at her.

Jackass Cyclist:  Hey!  Are you aware that you are required by law to give me three feet of space between my bike and your car?!

Sweet Shopping Grandma (as she tried retreating to the other side of the lawn):  I’m done talking to you about it.  Please leave me alone.  

Jackass Cyclist:  No, we’re not done talking about it.  You put my physical safety in danger.

At this point, both Matt and I stood.  I picked Chester up and Matt approached the cyclist.

Sweet Shopping Grandma (as she scurried to her car): I don’t have to listen to this.  Goodbye. 

Jackass Cyclist (continued yelling after her):  Blah, blah, blah, blah, three feet, blah, blah, physical safety, blah, blah, blah!!!!!!!!

Matt: I really don’t need this confrontation on my property, so please move along.

Jackass Cyclist: I’m not on your property.  This is a public sidewalk.

Matt:  Actually, it is my property.  It’s a public right-of-way easement through my property.

As I attempted to distract Chester from the cyclist’s jackassy-ness, I rolled my eyes and thought “Oh boy, he picked the wrong guy to argue with about private property versus public space.”

Jackass Cyclist: That’s right, it’s a public sidewalk.

Matt: OK, you shouldn’t be operating your “vehicle” on the sidewalk.

Jackass Cyclist:  Oh come on, are you really going to go there?

Matt:  Sure.

Jackass Cyclist:  Well, you invited that person onto your property, so you invited this conflict.

Me: (Another huge eye roll.)

Matt: We’re having a garage sale.  And you already scared her away so just leave.

Jackass Cyclist: Well she endangered my physical safety.  Do you know that she endangered my physical safety?

Matt:  Do you want me to call the cops or are you just going to leave?

Jackass Cyclist: Well, she endangered my safety and you invited . . . (Suddenly, Jackass Cyclist seemed to notice that the person he was arguing with was 6’6” and looking very pissed off.  He deflated his Lycra, logo-covered chest, adjusted his aerodynamic sunglasses and pedaled away.)

I have no idea what originally happened to offend this guy’s cyclist sensibilities.  Maybe the driver did get too close to him, putting his safety at risk, but if that was the case, I’d bet both my evil, oil-consuming cars that it was a complete accident.  I appreciate that cycling is a good transportation alternative for some people, but the whiny, self-righteous attitude has got to go.  A bike-commuting friend and colleague of mine once told me that many hard-core cyclists consider themselves “Wild West cowboys” blazing trails in a heretofore bike-unfriendly transportation world.  I’ve watched quite a few Westerns over the years and I don’t recall any of the cowboys being so whiny.  Clint Eastwood says things like "Are you going to pull those pistols or whistle Dixie" not “Heeeeeey, you just endangered my physical well-being!”

 This is Clint Eastwood.  He's a badass.

This is a cyclist.  He's a jackass. 

(He isn't the exact one that appeared in my yard, but he looks just like him.  Except this one is smiling instead of whining and yelling.)

I may be anti-self-righteous cyclist, but I do support better infrastructure so people can ride bikes without facing the dangers created by a transportation system designed and built for cars (and so cars can utilize that system without bikes mucking it up).  However, the current economic reality is that we can’t even pay for the programs and infrastructure we already have.  A new revenue source is desperately needed, which is why my bid for mayor will center on new legislation requiring bikes to be licensed.  Under my administration, cyclists will pay a fee to license their bikes and must display a valid license plate to travel on roads, just like cars.  These licensing fees will fund special lanes and other infrastructure modifications to make our fair city safe and friendly for bikes.  That should make the self-righteous cyclists happy, right?  Even more importantly, this will allow other drivers to report the cyclists' spandex-clad asses when they break every traffic law ever recorded as they roll down the road.  Police will give traffic tickets to these cyclists and . . . Voilà, even more revenue!   Brilliant, right?  Yes, it is.  Vote Ronda  . . . The Equal Rights (and Responsibilities) for Bikes Mayor!