Life from the Bike Lane

orignally published in the Spartanburg Journal, September 2010

I ride my bicycle to work most days.  I ride when it’s coldest, and hottest, but usually not when it’s raining.  My ride is short, about ten minutes and less than two miles, and I’ve come to value the time I spend doing so.

I ride for transportation only.  Occasionally I’ll go for the Friday lunchtime ride hosted by Partners for Active Living, and every so often someone will ask me to go for a ride. 

Having ridden in a variety of contexts from downtown Philadelphia to rural California mountains for the past 25 or so years has given me a broad understanding of how to ride.  For the past three-and-a-half years I’ve worked for organizations that advocate for active living policies, planning and design, so I have an added knowledge of the current trends and developments. 

The recent focus on spiraling obesity rates, in particular among children, has resulted in a new sense of urgency for active living and healthy eating advocates.  Much of that new energy has focused on changing the physical environment to accommodate pedestrians and cyclists.  Here in Spartanburg we have added bike lanes on many downtown streets, and improved sidewalks to allow for more equal access for people with disabilities and families with strollers.  I wrote a column recently about the addition of a simple sign placed in some downtown crosswalks that remind us that automobiles must yield to pedestrians crossing.  Spartanburg’s designation as a Bicycle Friendly Community by the League of American Bicyclists is another sign of our progress.   

Because I have a short ride, I’ve made just a few adjustments to my schedule.  In the summer, I keep my speed slow to avoid sweating.  It appears for me that 10 miles per hour, measured on my handy bike computer, is the threshold.  That means my summer ride is a few minutes longer than my winter ride, when ride as fast as I can to maintain some body heat. 

I’ve also made a few observations from my rides.  The same exposure that makes me a vulnerable target on a bike makes me a more involved street user.  Folks walking on the street are more in my realm than those in cars.  Some nod, some say hello in response to my greeting, some ignore me.  But when I drive I rarely have the same kind of interaction. 

When I turn right, it seems I know more people.   Think about the right-turn hand signal—left arm out, elbow bent, hand in the air.  I throw that one up, and all of a sudden drivers are waving to me.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised by the anger some drivers show when they pull in front of me, or start to.  Despite my front and rear lights, I am often blamed for their own inattention.  I’m heartened, though, by those who yield the right-of-way to me in situations where I don’t have it, at four-way stops, or when turning left. 

Only some of my route includes bike lanes, or the shared lane marking called “sharrows.”  But I do stay off the major roads like Church Street, Pine Street and Henry Street.  Those roads are just not made for bicycle travel, and most drivers are so concerned about their own safety that they are not looking for cyclists.  I prefer the slower speed streets, like Kennedy Street, or Main Street through the central business district.  Though drivers are not always aware I’m there, they are generally going slowly enough and with little enough traffic that they can avoid me. 

The more I ride and the more I’m noticed, the safer I feel.  Familiarity brings kinship—I’m the guy who rides, and I feel as though drivers begin to recognize me.  No one wants to hit someone they know.