From the sky they comb the grounds for blood. Birds of prey register a detected victim as pure sustenance, and dive down. The unsuspecting quarry doesn’t even know their end is near. In a blink they are collected, and consumed. It’s over, but it’s also beginning. One life ends to simply sustain the other. This is an act of survival, not of reprisal or malice. This is a rule of nature. However, by the human standard, our survival scenarios aren’t in such black and white terms. Our rules have to be defined as a collective society. Of course, there are “gray areas.” For example, jaywalking is a violation of pedestrian traffic regulations, which is therefore illegal, but people continually do this and rarely contract a citation. Most of us don’t care, but when it’s done to the point of losing a life, then it becomes an active centerpiece for discussion and action. When this happens, action is taken, and people are talking.
A much larger scale issue of this survival agenda can be found here in Portland: It’s bicyclists versus motorists. It’s thousands against possibly hundreds. It’s also a couple of tons opposed to a couple of hundred pounds. Both categories use the roads. Both groups also think they can safely evaluate their maneuverability, and steer clear of confrontation. Wrong. Neither one can always know what will happen in a blink.
The situation is a matter of rule breaking, not bending. Accidents happen when mistakes are made by poor judgment. Injury and possibly even death is the result.
We are at war right now, and not just in Iraq. There’s no need to shed blood here at home because accidents can be prevented by simply knowing the rules of the road. Some people have to drive 45 miles to work, and others want to save the environment and boost their health by biking.
I have witnessed both sides of this coin.
If you’ve ever ridden a bicycle along the side of a road at night, you know the value of being easily seen. I thought I did. I used to trek from my house to the gym. I had equipped my hardtail mountain bike with the brightest mini-halogen light on the market. I always checked my tire pressure, and made sure the reflectors were clean and bright. I’d outfit myself with the brightest orange riding jacket I could find, and keep my gloves secured properly for better control. When I rode out, my route took me along highway 30. I always stayed as far on the shoulder side of the white line as possible. I worked hard at being responsible. Being all geared up and prepared for the ride made me feel safe. It wasn’t enough. It only took one close call to spoil my view of biking alone. It was the night that the reflectors and brightly colored attire seemed more like a target beacon rather than a signifier for safe space. I was pedaling along when I heard the only truck on the road slow down a bit from behind me. The light from the headlights blinded me as I turned to look, and at that exact moment, the truck swerved toward me and squealed the tires. The driver abruptly jerked back onto the road. Fortunately, the pick-up missed me. I think they were just trying to give me a scare, and it worked. The draft currents from the truck nearly whipped me off of my bike into the traffic lane. This type of metal driving predator is a coward.
The other side of the coin I’ve been witness to is from the motorist perspective. Only weeks ago, this last March, I was driving down Burnside on route to Good Samaritan Hospital to visit a very special person in my life. I turned right onto 23rd and proceeded down the busy street. There were cars parked along both sides of the road, and the traffic was dense: typical for this area. In a flash I was hit with the most dangerous dose of lunacy I’d ever seen. A bicyclist passed my car on the left of this two-way street while cars in the left lane were passing me as well. He rode the center of the dotted yellow line inches away from me, and the other lane of oncoming traffic. Cars honked. Rude gestures were made. I screamed with anger to the extent that I could not find my own horn or the button to roll down my window. The biker was wearing a safety helmet, gloves, and had shiny reflectors. At a glance you might think him to be a safe trekker. Appearances can be deceiving. He proceeded to turn right while drinking from his water bottle and bolted straight on through a 4-way stop. I felt victimized again, but this time it was from this two-wheeled metallic menace.
Bike organizations such as Critical Mass or even the BTA would be ashamed of this type of behavior, just as the DMV and State Police would be mortified by rogue cars or trucks that swerve at other patrons of the road.
We all know that it takes only one bad apple to spoil the barrel, but we’re not talking about apples here. We’re talking about persons with poor judgment that put us all in danger. Bike riders don’t have to pay for insurance, or license and registration fees for the road. Bikes don’t have polluting motors, but also don’t have seat belts. Cars have great stability, but put carcinogens into the air. Bikes have biking lanes, but not enough. Cars have traffic lanes. Each side has issues. The difference is the operator who behaves like the predator stalking the prey.
