I have left my exciting bike adventure entry as an afterthought, so some of you wouldn’t worry too much about me.
It can be pretty scary riding a fast road bike long distances, especially while attached to it. I am glad the roads, for the most part, are closed for the race. (At least one lane is closed) I would typically ride the course to train. This weaves me around streets and through intersections before I get to the interstate.
I cycle in the bike lane or in the shoulder of the roads (for what they’re worth). Arizona isn’t known for its especially good drivers. This makes for a pretty nerve wracking bike ride. I get to deal with people texting, running red lights, speeding, and the general assholery toward the cyclist from many an automobile driver.
I have a few favorite drivers. If there was ever a time I was going to pee myself on the bike, these are the stories. . .
-There was the jerk that, at first I thought was just not paying attention, and swerved over the rumble strips into the shoulder space roughly two feet in front of me. That was awesome. Jackass then proceeded to continue his little leapfrog around the cyclists further up the road from me too. Really punk? That’s funny?
-There was the stretch of road with no shoulder. It’s usually around 7 am when I would make my way out to the interstate. This is not a time for much congested traffic on this particular road on a Saturday morning. The DUMP truck dipshit refused to scoot over and give me three feet (it’s the law by the way). There was no traffic for miles in either direction and you can’t scoot over into the second lane to give me some space? He was so close and going so fast that the draft almost knocked me over.
-This same road on the way back to my house . . . happens to be the road where one of our local casinos sits. Yay. Arizona is also the snowbird capital of the world. Gambling grandpa in his caddy practically shaved my leg for me he was so close as he sped by to beat the rest of his retirement community to the tables.
-I have to make a left turn onto McClintock on my way home. I can barely make it through the turn light before it turns red. I immediately merge into the bicycle lane. The BICYCLE lane. This isn’t another lane for motors to drive in. As I’m pedaling away, motorcycle meanie needs to hover on the bicycle lane line as he accelerates past me. Really, the entire lane you have isn’t big enough, you have to take my little lane as well? Sigh.
I can go on and on. There are the people in sports cars who get off racing me to the stop signs. There are the ones who honk and flip me off because I stop at the stop signs to give the folks who were there first the right of way. There’s the neighborhood shuttle bus driver who thinks it’s a good idea to speed around me and then stop in the bike lane, then honk at me because I made him stop so fast.
To all of you aggressive drivers who think these stories are funny? They’re not. You are jerks. I am not in a contest with you. As it turns out, I will not win. I know this. This is why I stop and the STOP signs and the red lights. This is why I obey the traffic laws and try to stay out of your way. Throw me and all of my gear and Gus on the bike and we weigh about 200 pounds. This is not a competition, I am trying to survive.
