Commuter's Corner #3: The Guy with the Badge
Everybody fusses about taking the lane. I ask, what’s the worry?
It’s just NW 13th Street, what can happen? People might honk their horn, or yell something incoherent. Small domestic animals might snarl savagely as they lean precariously out their window. Cars might gun their loud diesel engines and pick-up trucks might pass “too close”.
My experience has been just the opposite. Rather than watch motorist frustration and hostility escalate, I have watched it drop. But then again, you must understand the lack of understanding which I had occasion to face one sunny morning last year, with the Guy with the Badge.
It was early on in my adventures in taking the lane, back in the good old days when I still clutched my handlebars with white knuckles hoping against hope to survive. One car in particular passed me and gave an unusual series of BURPs. BUUURRRRP! BURRP! BURRP! BUUURRRRRRRRP! And then WHOOSH it blew past me. I waved back, happy for the company.
Then a couple of weeks later, there came a familiar pattern of BURPs from a car behind me. I held my lane position and signaled for the car to go around. Sure enough, there came the tell-tale sound of an engine gunning, and I figured they’d gotten the message and would go their merry way, like other vehicles with BURPing problems.
The next thing I knew, a guy was flashing me a badge. So I pulled into the Krispy Kreme parking lot, wondering what would happen next. The car was not GPD, and the badge looked like some sheriff’s star form an old western movie.
A sturdy guy climbed out of the vehicle. No official uniform or sidearm. I asked, “Is there a problem?” He looked at me like I was an extraterrestrial that just stepped out of a flying saucer.
“Yeah,” he began, evidently looking for the right words. “I’ve been around lots of people riding bikes, including my kids. I’ve ridden with them to many different places. I’m very concerned about all our safety. They wear their helmets. And we ride where it’s safe.”
He was polite, and there was no yelling involved. But the anger in his voice rose as he moved to make his point: “So I’d like to know why you’re out in the street, on a busy road, riding in the middle of the lane, instead of the bike lane.”
I pointed at 13th Street and replied, “Well, first of all, there isn’t a bike lane.” He spun around, as if seeing the lane configuration for the first time. “Second, the speed limit is only 30 mph through here.” I continued, “And the traffic is moving slowly, so I’m actually waiting for you motorists.”
I figured that was enough, but he pressed his case. “You really think this is safe? How do you know?” I replied, “This is what the City, the County, FDOT, the Florida Bicycle Association, and the League of American Bicyclists all agree is safer. Bikes in the lane are more visible to motorists.”
At this point we both thought we had the ace in the hand. He played his: “What about getting hit?” I replied, “The most common car-on-bike accident is the right hook, when a car turns right and hits a cyclist, which is what happens if a cyclist rides at the right edge of the lane.”
Here my friend with the badge ran out of arguments. “I don’t want to spend time arguing with you about those details. I’m just concerned about your safety…”
I wasn’t done. “Riding in the lane is best practice. I teach this stuff, and…” But by now he was turning away. He’d found a brave new world.
With that I wished him a great day. Then I saddled up and headed back out into the traffic. And took the lane.
As I rode on, I reflected that I’d not played my ace: Bikes are vehicles. Riding in the lane is allowed by law in the Florida Statutes, Chapter 316. I have since procured copies of the “little pink booklet” that spells this out, hoping to meet more motorists seeking bicycle education.
I reflected that the Guy with the Badge really was concerned about my safety, but was profoundly uninformed about the real dangers of riding in the street: they lie primarily at the edge, not in the middle of the lane. Ignorance, not hostility, is the danger.
Alas, I’ve not had any takers of the little pink booklets. Since that day last summer when I met the Guy with the Badge, I’ve been honked at a grand total of twice while riding down 13th Street in the middle of the lane, 4-5 days per week. YES, BOYS AND GIRLS, IT CAN BE DONE. DON’T FORGET TO BRING YOUR FREE PINK BOOKLETS!