Gear Change Up

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

I got pulled over

I angle to the curb and step to the sidewalk, out of traffic. The cop stops his motorcycle next to me and says, "Something something something."

"Sorry officer, I don't speak Dutch."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Why did you run that red light back there?"

Funny he should ask. It's actually a question that I have been pondering a lot in recent weeks. The second half of my project (entitled The Culture of the Bike) requires me to construct The Global Cyclist. Or at least the culture of the global cyclist. Or at least common traits of cyclists the world over regardless of their purpose for riding.

Because even though we are all separated by continents, by incomes, by culture, by beliefs, and by lifestyle, we all still pedal. So there must be similarities between us all. Not a lot, but they are there, and one of these similarities is that we the cyclists of the world all break traffic laws.

There is no exception to the rule.

I know I was trained at a young age to break traffic laws. Not trained per se, but I remember the family bike rides. Dad would ride ahead to the intersection and look both ways, and if the coast was clear, we went. If there was a stop sign, this routine did not change. Not a wheel stopped turning, not a foot was put down.

I don't know how we all went from that to blowing off traffic signals, riding up streets the wrong way, and for the very best of us...breaking the speed limit. But it happened, and now cyclists are the pirates of the road. In China we form stregnth in numbers, and when we have enough we eek out into the lanes; green light be dammed. The cars stop. They don't want to, and they'll come within a half an inch of you, but they stop. In New Zealand we tear down the trails at top speed and hikers go from human beings to mere obstacles; they add to the challenge of it all. In Spain we're trying to keep up the average speed dammit, and if we're decending faster than you're driving (I'm talking to you in your Ford Ka), we have no problem swinging into the oncoming lane. And in Holland, what is the point if no one is coming? We're cyclists. We do what we want, go when we want, and park our bikes anywhere we want.

The problem with studying cycling is dealing with the pluralism of the bike. I can't define it, but I don't feel bad about that fact because, well, no one can. Is it a vehicle or not? Is it practical or not? Is is green or not? Liberal or conservative?

Is the cyclist invincible or vulnerable? The cyclist must be invincible to muster the courage to face tons of steel coming at them at top speed. The cyclist laugh in the face of danger when faced with the prospect of causing serious injury. The cyclist knows his ability to cause extreme damage to others is minimal, and can take full responsibility for himself. And if the cyclist thinks he can make it, he's gonna go for it.

But what about vulnerability? Does the cyclist take the law at his own interpretation because he knows that he can't cause that much damage? Does the cyclist dart in and out of traffic to find the safest route or the quickest route? And, for me, coming from a country where the number one killer is not cigarettes not old age not crossbows but cars; do I really trust laws put in place for vehicles of destruction to protect little old me and my helmet?

The plurality of the bike obviously extends to the cyclist, and because we can't decide what we are, are we still subject to the same rules as something we know we aren't? Or do we just create our own as we go along?

And why? Running a red light. It's not like I blew through an intersection. I was in fact...stopped. And I got sick of waiting. And no cars were coming. So I went.

But I didn't want to tell that to the cop. Nor did I think that he would be all that interested in my deconstruction of the cyclist. And in fact my only interest at the moment was talking myself out of a ticket.

"Sorry, sir. I was looking at the little green man as opposed to the actual light."

He shakes his head again. "Next time, you stop."

And drives off.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home