I love my bicycles as much as I love my cars. When I moved to Chicago I started riding my bikes (yes plural- I have had as many as 5 at once) in order to get from place to place within the city. This has its advantages, and disadvantages.
An advantage is that I can get damn near anywhere fast, and for free. Chicago is big, but it is flat and there are bike lanes everywhere. Public transport has proved reliable, but there aren’t necessarily stops near where you want to go, so you end up taking a train, a bus, and then walking significant distances. If I take the bike, I go where I need to go, get a little exercise and see the sites. Other perks if I was a single guy: It seems like women riding in cars like to talk to a guy riding along next to them in traffic. I have been asked all sorts of questions, Some ladies want directions, or they ask me how I am doing. They complain about traffic, and sometimes they hit on me. I have been cat called, wolf whistled and I have been subtly propositioned ex: “HEY SEXY!” “NICE LEGS!” Or the always popular “WANNA FUCK?” Good times.
The downside is that a bicyclist is somewhat inconspicuous to drivers. People get hit all the time, and when you are on a bike traveling at any kind of speed getting hit by a car, or hitting a car can be fatal. I have had my share of close calls. Last summer I was riding in the bike lane on Lawrence when an SUV driver suddenly decided he wanted to make a right turn. He damn near pushed me into a parked car. I slapped his rear window and he quickly moved back to his left and made way. On another night I was riding down Clark, and a guy in a Civic suddenly pulled out of a parking space in front of me. I was barely able to miss him, and then the fucking douche bag gave me the finger.
There is always the potential to get my bike stolen. I lock it up but that won’t prevent some asshole who really wants my bike from getting it. My buddy Jon lost his ride to some motherfucker who was carrying some sort of high-speed portable saw. Cut a kryptonite lock like it was butter…
Then there is a new phenomenon- Cycle hate. I didn’t know it existed, but it does. Assholes trying to knock riders off their bikes, or restrict their ability to ride in a given area. Last week I was riding down to my buddies house and the beach trail ended near Sheffield. I made a quick turn onto the sidewalk to ride up to the end of the block where I could merge with traffic and this asshole steps out in front of me (on purpose). I come to a stop. “You can’t ride on the sidewalk” he says. Great, I appreciate the advice. I just came off the beach trail and need to get 30 ft up the sidewalk to the next intersection. I have no comment for the street lawyer, so I ride around him, but he isn’t done talking; now he is making smart assed comments to my back as I ride away… I wanted to remind him that he was a douchebag in a pink shirt walking a little foofoo miniature poodle that was shitting on the public sidewalk. Then I figured insulting me to my back was probably the highlight of his pathetic day, as he was clearly a lower form of life. I let it go and rode on thinking of how wonderful it was that the asshole would shortly be handling Princess Foofeekins excrement. In my head I was thinking of all the wonderful things I wish I had said or done, but didn’t because I am not witty enough, and I am not the confrontational sort- (Translation) I should have smacked that bitch, but alas- I am a big pussy… moving on.
I came upon an interesting news article from Portland Oregon. I am posting the link below
Cycle Hate In Oregon
It appears that the rising price of gas has lead to more folks taking to their bikes (good) but that has lead to some serious motorist-on-cyclist rage (bad). Check out the link, and then watch this video of some drunk charging down the road with a cyclist on his fucking hood! Unreal.
I decided to throw my hat into the cycling advocacy ring. I wanted to descend upon the public en-masse and take by force what I have previously been denied. I wanted to storm the roadways like Wallace stormed the field at Stirling, with a hoard of my brethren at my back. As per usual, I also figured out a way to diffuse my mission in a blur of alcohol. Critical Mass!!! Whoopee! I am letting you fuckers know I own the road, and I am getting drunk whilst I do it! Fuck yeah!
OK, maybe it wasn’t cycling advocacy I was going for. It was cycling self-esteem. And Critical Mass was the ultimate vehicle. It is a completely non-sensical event, with no real leadership, or agenda. Still the Mass manages to fuck people over without any rhyme or reason, and that brings me a twisted sort of fulfillment that I might have enjoyed if I had only had the balls to confront that fucker on the sidewalk and kick hios sorry ass… I admit it, I have weaknesses as a person, and I like to roll into battle heavy. So it was that on the last Friday of July I found myself amongst hundreds of other cyclists sitting astride my trusty Specialized Langster, biding my time in Daley Plaza waiting for the rest of the crowd to assemble, and making guesses about when the ride would begin. I packed a liter and a half of Margarita into my camelback for the occasion, and chatted with my friends as I surreptitiously took steady pulls of hooch from my backpack. I was ready to roll.
Critical Mass is a unique event. On one hand you have folks pining for cycling advocacy- “Share the road” they cry, and “give 3 feet, It’s the Law” they demand. Yet once the ride starts going, Everyone completely ignores all the laws that road use requires-
Stop at traffic signals? Nope.
Utilize bike lanes? Not today!
Yield to Pedestrians? What pedestrians?
No Drinking and driving! FUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!!!!!!
So we embark in a heard of what seemed to be a thousand bicyclists. People of all ages, genders, orientations, races, religions, political affiliations, and agendas. We were a coalition of cyclists bound together by the common goal of having no common goal. It was reckless, it was stupid, it was somewhat illegal, and it was totally glorious in every way I hoped it could be.
It would only have been better if I could have passed a gridlocked Pink Shirt man angrily pounding out his frustration on the steering wheel of his asshole-mobile while little Foofekins yelped out the window at a thousand cyclists wishing him an acerbic “Happy Friday”. Hey- he said I ought to ride on the road right? RIGHT?!?!?!? Fucker.
We rode all over the city. I saw parts of Chicago I had never seen. We dominated the roadway, and we all cheerfully acknowledged four wheeled traffic with cynicism normally reserved for stand up comedians. Happy Friday! I hope you like that CD your listening to, cause you are going to be there for awhile!
In short, I heart Critical Mass. I am already planning on riding again in August. This is why I was really disturbed by the following Video
I guess it stands to reason. I mean we do fuck with a lot of people’s patience. But this guy was a Cop, and look how he set up to put a hit on that rider. Totally intentional. He tried to write it up like the cyclist hit him, but YouTube puts the squash on that…
I suppose that is the risk you take. I still plan to ride again!
Edit to asdd additional info 8/18
More Bike Rage reported on CNN
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