Ah, jeez, some people can be so nice. Please don’t overlook the irony to that statement. “Can be so nice” is almost like saying, “You’re so much help!”
I’ve gone over these expressions, orally, a dozen times, and there’s no way I can make them seem sincere. In my experience “So much help” always comes out sarcastically, regardless of who’s uttering it.
Now that we’re experts on irony, let’s get to the point:
My son, Stan, sent me a Facebook item, that reads “It is better to run over a bicyclest then get in a head on accedent because they don’t share the road.” The message appears on a sign next to a highway. The Facebook post doesn’t specify a location.
Now that’s the writing of a nice guy. Even the thought of injuring or killing a bicyclist (compare my spelling of this word with his) is abhorrent. Often we read about someone who ran a bicyclist off the road and drove off.
And sometimes we read letters to the editor concerning “bicyclists who refuse to follow the same rules as the rest of us.” It’s a huge problem, and for every person who advocates sharing the road, there are those whose invective flows non-stop toward bikers.
I am a biker, although much less active than when I believed the slow-moving auto traffic around Highlands was safe. I hesitate to apply this dose of spray paint to all motorists, my also being one, but I must say that those in motorized vehicles tool around at much higher horsepower than the human counterpart on a bike.
It’s rare for a motorist to be injured in a bike-car accident, but common for serious injuries to occur to the bicyclist.
A column I wrote a few years ago — one that drew considerable reader reaction, both for and against — advocated having those on bikes be allowed on sidewalks and to travel against the traffic. But as much as one might hope, that idea would never fly. Why? Because “We’ve always done it that way: Bikers must ride with the traffic, same as cars,” and “A pedestrian might be injured if hit by a bicyclist.”
Crashing your bike into a pedestrian? The frequency of pedestrians walking anywhere in this town is low anyway.
The dedicated bicycle lanes on some freeways might afford the biker some protection, but the fact that bikers ride on the right edge of the road, and that motorists make right turns creates a danger.
Once, I was pedaling toward class on Eighth Street and came across a student I would be teaching in about three minutes. Catherine drove alongside me, smiled, and then made a gesture indicating she would be making a right turn. She immediately swerved to the right, seeming intent on forcing me off the road, which she did.
I thought, “Is this the new way of assuring you get to class on time?” To Catherine, I have no doubt, she wasn’t being inconsiderate but merely doing what physics requires for a right turn. Though I was more agile in those days and able to negotiate the near-sideswipe of my bike, I still would have preferred some other arrangement of vehicular space allotments.
Another time, I headed north, hoping to pedal to Watrous, about 20 miles out. Soon, a state policeman pulled me over, checked my driver’s license, asked if I’d noticed the sign at the freeway ramp, told me I was illegally on I-25 and suggested I use the frontage road instead. “Be safe,” he said.
What’s wrong with this picture? There is no frontage road nearby, and when we manage to pick it up, the deteriorated condition of the tarmac makes riding difficult. The Interstate has great visibility, wide shoulders and a smooth surface. I wonder whether bicycles are generally prohibited on freeways simply because traffic travels faster there.
I’d rather risk sharing the road with fast drivers than to ride on rough pavement with non-existent shoulders and poor visibility.
Small by design, bikes don’t seem to pose as big a threat to drivers as, say, another car, or a semi.
Mr. (or Mrs.) Nice Guy, the poster of the let’s-go-ahead-and-run-down-bicyclists sign, might have contempt for those who try hard not to pollute the atmosphere. Let’s just hope nobody follows the advice of that jerk.
And besides, he or she is a lousy speller.
• • •
Ah for just a few more minutes of football. Because of something called the “Mercy Rule,” the game between the Robertson High School Cardinals and the West Las Vegas Dons last Saturday ended at halftime because RHS led by 50 or more points.
Meanwhile, the original starting time for the Vegas Bowl was advanced by 90 minutes, which meant a noon kickoff. Driving by Cardinal Stadium around the time the game was suspended, I noticed dozens of vehicles going toward the stadium.
Were they operating on the 1:30 kickoff time? Were they following “Vegas time,” which means somewhat later? Were they there simply to pick up family? The game was moved to the earlier spot because of “logistics,” which might have had something to do with the Highlands football game that afternoon. The Optic printed the time change in that day’s issue. We wonder whether some of the fans got there simply too late, and how many fans left dissatisfied over getting to watch only half the game.
Listening on radio, I wished that the last, promising, drive West mounted just before halftime had resulted in points, enough to prolong the game. If West had narrowed the gap to fewer than 50 points, there would have been more action.
Had I been the coach of a team with a commanding lead, I might have told my players, “Let them score — this time.”
But that bit of strategy might have backfired. And that’s one of many reasons I’m not a coach.