If I Die While Biking

Another of us was lost a few weeks ago. Another ghost bike placed. Another voice silenced. And it got me to thinking. I'll try not to let this get too depressing. As bleak as the statistics are, it's an unlikely scenario.

I don't even know if I'll ever bike again. I'm having some pretty significant health challenges. I'm just not sure it's in my future, but I remain hopeful.

I don't want some gaudy floral display beside the road. I don't want a modest wooden cross to mark the spot. If I die while biking, get a ghost bike and chain it near the spot. It better be a pretty, girly thing, not a nondescript road bike. Stick a basket on the front and put a couple colorful fake flowers in it. I want everyone who sees it to know not just "some cyclist died here," but "lady cyclist died here." I want them to think, "that could've been my sister, my wife, my mother, my friend."

Something like This. Girlier, if Possible.

To my loved ones: Attend whatever shindig the cycling community puts together. Let them support you, and support them in return. When one of us dies, we all think of our mortality, even if we didn't know the person. We're all thinking, "that could be me."

It may be hard, but do what you can to encourage more cycling. The more of us there are, the safer we all are. Remember that cycling didn't kill me; poor infrastructure, poor driving, or both probably did. Yes, serious crashes can happen without a person driving being involved. But if I'm actually dead, it's probably because I collided with a person driving (only 16% of  fatal or serious crashes reported to the police in England don't involve a collision with a person driving).

Support efforts to create infrastructure that prioritizes safety for vulnerable road users, even if you think it could add minutes to your commute or inconvenience others who drive. (Actually, most measures don't add significant vehicle delays). Isn't my life worth your inconvenience?

There'll almost certainly be video evidence. Use it. Sue the everliving fuck out of whatever jackass killed me. Or work to change the thing that led to my demise.

Lastly, no matter how I go, throw yourselves a bitchin' party. Get the good food. Get the good booze. Hire a good band. Party like it's my last day on earth. I'd be there if I could.

A Lesson in Control and Release

I found myself praising my daughter for learning a lesson in lane control and release, but it was really that she taught me the lesson. (Spoiler alert; no daughters were harmed in the making of this blog post.)

Most sites seem to call this "lane control" rather than "control and release," but what often happens over the course of a ride is both control and release. A person on a bicycle takes the middle of the right lane - rather than riding on the very outside edge - in order to control traffic behind them. When the lane widens, or a shoulder or bike lane are added to the lane, the person on a bicycle can move over to allow traffic behind them to pass safely.



In Anne Arundel County, bike lanes, shoulders, choke-points, and narrowing occur at random. The bad news is that people on bicycles sometimes have to take an aggressive stance to prevent people in automobiles from trying to "squeeze by." The good news is, it probably won't be long before the bike lane or shoulder magically reappears. (This is all bad news for people on bikes, who don't appreciate disappearing bike lanes or random choke points like the one below.)


An example of an AA County choke point. It's supposed to "calm traffic," but doesn't actually impede automobile traffic in any way, and is the opposite of "calming" for people on bicycles.

One road in particular tends to suffer from narrowing and widening lanes, as well as drivers in a hurry. In places, the shoulder can be measured in millimeters, while in other places there's a shoulder wide enough that it might be another lane (though it isn't marked as such). In much of the road, the lane is too narrow to safely be shared, but just wide enough to be tempting.

It was in this section that my daughter tried - unsuccessfully - to control the lane. She was passed by people in cars trying not to cross the double-yellow, because there was oncoming traffic.

When I bike this road, I always remind myself to put on my big-girl pants, steel myself, and take that lane. People in cars on this road will always try to share the lane with me if I don't take all of it, and that's a pretty bad situation for a person on a bike to be in. (Check out that first link in this post. No, really. It won't take long, I promise. Here it is again.)

My daughter's experience is one I've had. While I was busy clucking my tongue that she had to learn that lesson the hard (thankfully, not the hardest) way, I forgot that I was still learning it, too. Sometimes it's helpful to hear someone you love talk about a shared experience. It's a reminder to do what you need to do to stay safe, and validation that you need to do it. Thanks, Daughter.