There are many risks involved in cycling. This is a truism that we all feel. Yet we ride, most of us, feeling that the rewards outweigh the risks. Is it possible to list, assign level, and sort these risks? Definitely, and in so doing, we can achieve some sort of control over them.
So what sort of risks do we face? I will argue we face three basic risks: ourselves, other road users, and the road itself.
Let’s look at the road, first. These risks are the ones we see most immediately, and are ones we can do something about or have someone deal with. Breaks in the pavement – cracks, pot holes, and lifts – are things that will affect both ourselves and other drivers. A call to the appropriate authority will usually get fairly immediate results. Further, we can see these risks, and avoid them, if traffic is light enough. Loose surface, gravel, is a risk, but one that we have merely to learn to drive with. One can ride almost as fast on gravel as on pavement. Sand, on the other hand, should be avoided. It’s like trying to stand on a floor of loose marbles. Grassy surfaces require extreme care, as there can be (are sure to be) hidden pot holes in them. There are other risks on the surface, too. Broken glass, nails, and such debris are some examples here. The fact that streets are used by others as well as ourselves can create surface hazards. Traffic paint, used to mark out pedestrian walks, stop lines, and other traffic controls, is very slippery when wet or frosty. Steel manhole covers can catch one unawares, and bridge decks are so notoriously slippery that even motorists get reminded of the risk. All these can be foreseen, and allowed for, with care and vigilance. A final surface hazard is the curb itself. No – I don’t think it’s a good idea to try and jump it, but one needs to mount it, entering a driveway. The residual bump, rarely more than a centimetre, is negligible, unless one approaches at too fine an angle, when it becomes a longitudinal crack. We plough concrete with vigour, and discomfort.
Next, I’ll discuss the personal risks. Again, these are something we can deal with. What am I talking about? Personal preparation, basically. I need to be sure my bicycle is ready – mechanically sound, brakes and gears properly adjusted, bolts and nuts all tight. Am I properly equipped for the ride? Do I have the lights I’ll need, if I’m possibly going to be out after dark (and just WHEN is that, anyway?), or the bags, racks, and trailer for the load I’m carrying? Is my clothing suitable for the ride, do I have refreshment or liquid, if I’m going any distance? Have I got emergency equipment? Does someone know where I’m going, and what my expected timing is? Let me comment on this last point. Flyers, setting off over sparsely-inhabited land, are required to file a Flight Plan or Flight Note. These outline where the pilot is going, and give details about the aircraft and its equipment, the pilot, and the number of persons on board. They give an Estimated Time of Arrival, where and when he will report, and when he should be considered over-due. It seems to me that similar information on the cyclist could be of assurance, if not assistance, as we set off on a longer tour.
Finally, let’s look at the other road users. The common fear, here, is that I will be run down from behind by another driver. This is possible. I know of a few cases where this has happened – two or three over the past 25 years in Victoria, BC. Given, however, the number of cars and cyclists on the roads, this is a very rare accident. Much more common are side-swipe accidents, where a motorist, overtaking the cyclist, comes so close that the cyclist is either knocked off, or forced to fall off his cycle.
The cure for this accident, I’m convinced, lies with the cyclists. All too often we are encouraged to hug the curb – far closer than any driver would ever be comfortable driving. This entails at least two difficulties. First, we have no room to manoeuvre. We are forced to assume that we have no place on the roads, and that we are secondary to all other traffic. Secondly, we are out of the direct line of sight of the drivers, and not on his radar as a hazard. Thus, when he comes to turn a corner, he will not be looking for us, and will be shocked to find us there. To escape this fate, we need to take measures to make ourselves visible. First and foremost, we need to move away from the curb, out into the traffic lane. If it’s wide enough, yes, stay to the right, and let faster traffic filter through. If, however, it’s not, then the only course is to move out into the lane, place oneself roughly where a motorbike would be. The cyclist is now in the direct line of sight of the drivers, and they have now to deal with the cyclist as a vehicle in front of them. A further advantage of this position is that one cannot get hit by a car door, suddenly opened in ones face. The “Door Prize” has hurt and killed many riders, and continues to deter others from riding.
OK, you will say. That’s all very well for a Lance Armstrong, but what do I do? I’ll repeat: Move out of the gutter, claim your lane. Of course, courtesy (and some laws) require that a slow vehicle with traffic backing up behind it move to the side from time to time, and let others get past. This we can do. A half-block free of parked cars can be a good place to sag over, just enough, to let others past. Once they are, resume your place.
There’s a little trick one can use, to subtly let the driver behind know you are travelling at your best gait: Keep your pedal speed as high as you comfortably can. Many cycling experts look for a cadence of 90 or so as the norm. This has two advantages. The first is the subtle signal of speed. The second is that the load on one’s knees is reduced, and riding is less stressful on the body. Given time and practice, one can find a considerable improvement in overall speed.
So, we’ve come up to an intersection, with traffic lights. What should we do? My first response is: “What do you intend to do?” Are you turning, or going straight? If turning, which way? Are there any guides as to what lanes do what? As a rule, I’ve found that I fare best when I act as I would in my car. If there’s a right-turn lane, then, when going straight through, I need to be to the left of that lane. If I’m turning left, I need to be in a left-turn lane, or as near the centre-line as possible. In all cases, I show the appropriate signal, and stop behind the car in front. Why this last? Isn’t there room for me to get up to the head of the line? Possibly, yes, and POSSIBLY it’s safe, but I have no assurance, unless I talk to the driver on my left, that he isn’t going to decide to turn right at the last second. If he does, then I’m right in the line of fire. At least, behind the cars in front, I cannot get squeezed by them, and I can usually accelerate as fast as them, to clear the intersection ahead of the driver behind me. I’ve also sent him a signal that I intend to play the driving game by the same set of rules as he does. Result – little or no stress. Encouragement, lots of it, to accelerate smartly from the start. It’s amazing just how fast you CAN get going, when there’s a car breathing down your back! Again, I offer a hint to make this star-up easier. As you come up to the stop, down-shift to a lower gear, so that when you have to start up, you are in the right gear from the beginning. I choose about a 40” gear, with a cruise gear of 90 to 100”. It seems to work. (See my note on Gears, for explanations.)
Doing all these things takes a certain amount of assertiveness. It IS scary out there, and your body is right. You are surrounded by danger. But all this can be gauged, and allowed for. Once you have made it on quieter streets, you can try the busier arteries, in small doses, until you are confident of your ability to cope.
The worst hazard is what I think of as the general incivility of drivers. Far too many of us are rude to each other. We will not, for the sake of a matter of a second, allow anyone to get in front of us. Unless visibly restrained, we will rush through amber lights – even after they’ve turned to red, just because the guy ahead of us went. We regard speed limits as mere guidelines, possibly even as minima, rather than maxima. Places of danger – school zones, playgrounds, crosswalks, or work zones – are regarded as placed there simply to annoy us. In short, we selfishly think that, for whatever reason, the rules that apply to everyone else do not apply to us. As motorists, we do this, far too often. I can think of a local street – four narrow lanes of traffic, without restrictions on turning, where traffic tends to travel at 70 to 80 kmh, despite being signed for 50. If I drive it and hold my speed down to less than 60 kmh, other drivers think I’m an old fogey who’s needlessly delaying traffic. This stretch, about 1 km in all, takes about a minute to drive at the limit. One cannot save enough time by speeding to get one off it faster, yet everyone roars through as if it were an open stretch of rural highway. I’ve seen drivers in too much of a hurry to wait for a traffic light to change, and the vehicles ahead of them to clear, so they can turn right. What do they do? Climb the curb, and push through on the right, or pull out to the left, and overtake. I’ve seen drivers overtake a car waiting at an intersection to turn left ON THE LEFT!!! I’m sure you can list many examples of this sort of thing. The point I’m making is that we, cyclists, are no better. We push up on the right at traffic lights. We blast through stop signs and red-lights, if it’s going to delay us for a couple of seconds. In short, we are as rude to other drivers as they are to others and ourselves. This is not good publicity. It does our cause no benefit, but reinforces the view that we have no right to be on the road at all. We must be the very best drivers on the road – the most responsible, the most courteous, and the clearest as to our intentions. Only then, can we make the plea that the streets have been stolen from us, and we should get them back. I know all the arguments in favour of riding, but, unless they are accompanied by the best behaviour, we will only be regarded as undisciplined brats, unfit to turn loose, and our arguments will fall on deaf ears.
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