An Open Letter To The Lady Who Tried To Hit Me Today

Dear driver of the white sedan,

I hope this letter finds you well and much calmer than you were at 8:10am. Hopefully our brief interaction this morning did not make you late to wherever you were going. Though, the repeated swerving and stopping in front of us could not have helped with your commute time.

Since we don’t know each other, I’ll try to explain what brought me and my girlfriend onto Hollis Street with you. Like most weekday mornings, we were on our way to the climbing gym. Our panniers were stuffed with climbing shoes, harnesses, smoothies, and a change of clothes so Cait could look presentable at work. We opted for Hollis Street because it is slightly faster than the alternatives. There is also light traffic and plenty of width — key things for a healthy relationship between cars and bikes.

I believe you first encountered us at the stop light. We pulled in behind the delivery truck to wait for the light. As we started moving, the truck put on its blinker and started moving towards the sidewalk. Not trying to get squeezed into a truck and car sandwich, we did the sensible thing and passed the truck on the left. After we passed the truck we pulled back to the right side of the lane and continued our ride. However, since Hollis Street has parking on both sides and we’re not in Denmark, we stayed a few feet from the parked cars (on our right) to avoid getting doored. Even with this few extra feet of safety, there was plenty of room for cars to pass on the left without going into oncoming traffic.

Then we heard a car horn. And another. I didn’t bother looking back because I assumed the honking had nothing to do with us. We weren’t in anyone’s way, nor were we doing anything honk worthy. A red car passed us a couple blocks later. The driver looked upset, and clearly was trying to say something. Unfortunately for him, his window was down and his message was lost. However, my lip reading skills are finely tuned and I surmised that he was yelling at us. AT US!? My calm riding demeanor suddenly cracked at I was up off the handle bars and yelling back at the car. Not my finest moment.

That’s when you pulled up. Unlike the driver in the red car, you were prepared. Your window was down and you had matched my speed perfectly. With a fair amount of expletives, you told me that we were riding in the middle of the road. I matched your tone and expletive use rate with my response. Then we came to a red light. Surely with a moment to talk, I could diffuse the situation. I was wrong. The yelling turned into threats. We took off from the light and I assumed this was the end of our interaction. But no, you hadn’t gotten your point across forcefully enough. You stopped your car in traffic so I could catch back up. Then you told me to stop so we could fight. When I didn’t accept your offer of a fist fight, you threatened to hit me with your car. To prove your seriousness, you pulled in front of me and swerved hard into my path. Then you stopped again.

At this point I folded. I no longer wanted to be part of this. I looked back at a terrified Cait, and pointed to a side street where we could make our escape. In case you had followed us, we turned into the safety of the bike path and rode it all the way to the gym. We arrived shaken, upset, and completely dumbfounded as to how this all happened.

With the benefit of a few hours to cool off, I can now see things more clearly. I cannot explain your behavior, but I can explain mine. You see, I’ve been riding a bike for a long time. Long enough to have plenty of unsavory interactions with cars and drivers. I have friends who have been hit by cars, and left on the ground unconscious while the drivers sped off. My past experience gives me a sense of self righteousness when it comes to bike safety and traffic safety in general. When prodded in the wrong way, this self righteousness manifests in ugly comments and yelling from my throne (the saddle). This morning, I defended my riding and our right to be on the road. Unfortunately, I defended it with a vulgarity and tone that were not conducive to making amends with you, an enraged driver.

After we arrived at the gym, Cait told me that she was scared and asked me to not escalate situations like these in the future. She’s right. Without my actions, this never would have happened. Or, more accurately, the latter 80% of it would not have happened. You would have said your two cents, then sped off never to think about this situation again. Instead, I met your level of road rage and pushed you to the point of swerving to hit me. For that, I am sorry. I failed to calculate your level of rage and how far you’d go with this.

I hope to do better in the future. Because, until we have autonomous cars that can detect and avoid cyclists, we are stuck on the same roads together. And that could be a long time. So, here’s my plan.

1.  I will encourage good, safe driving around cyclists. When a driver gives me a good safety zone on a pass, I’ll acknowledge it. When a driver stops before turning so I can pass, I’ll wave thanks. When a driver stops and hands me water because it’s a hot day, I’ll hug them.
2. I will not provoke bad drivers with yelling, middle fingers, or vulgarity. In the case of a blatant and dangerous driving move, I’ll approach the driver and calmly tell them that they’re putting people’s lives at risk.
3. I will not argue with incensed drivers, like you. In those moments, rational arguments are futile so I’ll save mine for blog posts and public forums about bike safety.
4. I will do my best to follow the rules of the road. This includes stopping at red lights. If there’s a line of cars waiting at a red light on a narrow road, I’ll try to keep my spot in the order instead of squeezing past on the right. When there is a stop sign, I’ll come to a complete stop if there are cars waiting.

In return, all I ask of you is respect. Please respect our right to ride on the same roads that you drive. Please appreciate that the outcomes of a collision are significantly higher for us than for you in your reinforced steel box. And if we do something that irritates you, please don’t get so mad that you try to hit us.

Sincerely,

Ryan

PS This is a clear deviation from the rest of the content on this blog. Surly is alive and well, though he’s waiting for bigger cycling adventures before returning to authorship. In the meantime, I’ll write the occasional post that deals with the trials and tribulations of urban cycling and the occasional joys of a weekend bike tour in the Sierras.