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Sidelong Cyclingby John Whiteley, President 1995-1996July 2000As Yr. Obd’t. Svt. looks at the golden sun setting over the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, best wishes for a fun and exciting summer of cycling go out to all those of you who force yourselves to read this missive every month. You can rest assured my thoughts are full of envy as my imagination pictures you rolling down the green, shaded lanes of east Tennessee and north Georgia. Especially since bicycling doesn’t appear to be in my plans, at least not for the foreseeable future. Oh, how the job has changed! In the common ways of the merchant marine, my job in Puerto Rico went away (hopefully only temporarily) and my skills were required in the Gulf of Mexico. Oh, it’s not a bad job, not a bad job at all. I find myself on a diving support vessel in the oil field, keeping all those SUVs on the road, and most of the job entails sitting in the wheelhouse while at anchor, watching the radar and listening to the radio while catching up on my reading. No, not a bad job at all. No heavy lifting, you know. There’s only one problem. There’s no chance to cycle either! And what a shame that is! Those of you who have kept up with these meanderings know that a bicycle and training stand used to be part of my normal seagoing equipment. No more, at least for now, only because I didn’t know exactly how I was going to get to my new job, and a bicycle, hard as it is to believe, might have been considered to be excess baggage. No, the old Sugar Cane Truck is resting quietly in Spring City, awaiting my return. (Those of you who went on the Signal Mountain ride in May might have recognized the old girl as we both labored up the hills on that beautiful day.) And as pleasant as this new job is, it entails mostly sitting at anchor out at sea. We very seldom get to port where there would be a chance of riding or even running. It looks as if my only chance for exercise is going to be jumping rope, at least until something else can be arranged. And it’s really a pity. For those of you who have never had the chance to visit coastal Louisiana, it’s a cycling paradise, especially for older and larger cyclists such as me. You see, the land is flat. Really flat. Horizon at sea flat. In fact, the land and the water seem to pretty much blend together down here. It’s interesting to ride for miles alongside a bayou, realizing that the road and the water level are within inches of each other. No, you don’t get much practice in hill climbing down here. (That will be my excuse when Hugh Worthy beats the pants off me next time I’m home — lack of hill climbing practice!) And, because it’s so flat, a lot of people cycle. Most of the cyclists you see down on the bayou aren’t recreational cyclists like we are. No, most of then are utilitarian — they’re riding these old beaters with baskets to or from the store, or they have a load of shrimp or crayfish that they’re carrying to market. Or else they’re kids (up to young teenage years) riding on BMX bikes with the seat posts cranked all the way down into the seat tubes, pedaling with their knees brushing their ears. And, almost invariably, they’re pedaling on the wrong side of the road (if they aren’t weaving across the traffic lanes). With, of course, nary a helmet to be seen. Having in the past determined that the law of gravity really works, Yr. Obd’t. Svt. is frightened when confronted with one of these "cyclists." Since they’re violating the rules of the road to begin with, by riding either against traffic or swerving in and out of it, their actions are totally unpredictable. Is Boudreaux going to swerve into traffic right in front of you? Is Thibodeaux going to hit a pothole and fall in front of your car? And what is going to happen when the inherently unstable BMX bike with the helmetless teenage rider falls? The statistics on severe head injuries are frightening, and these are just accidents waiting to happen. But what is the concerned, experienced cyclist to do? If you confront the offending rider you will probably be considered to be a meddlesome busybody, or worse. They will probably laugh at you, if they choose not to ignore you to begin with. But consider the consequences. Maybe it’s better to be laughed at while knowing that at least you tried. An experience from the CBC Puerto Rico tour last year sticks in my mind. We were riding through Guayama on a particularly warm and tiring day and Guayama was experiencing one of its normal traffic jams. It was Sunday afternoon, and nobody was going anyplace quickly. Most of us were executing a routine Puerto Rican cycling maneuver — we were passing all the traffic on the right — when Hugh Worthy quietly but forcefully explained to the rest of us that we were setting a really bad example, both to other cyclists and to the motorists we were passing. He explained, correctly, that bicycles were vehicles and were subject to the same rules and regulations as were automobiles, and that included not passing on the right. And do you know something? Even if it was a common maneuver in Puerto Rican traffic, Hugh was right. We were setting a bad example and we were in the wrong by doing so. So, if you see a cyclist violating either the rules of the road or the rules of common sense, try to let him know, pleasantly, that he might be endangering himself or others by his actions. He just might listen to you. And, most important of all, set the proper example yourself. Follow the rules of the road and the rules of common sense. And always, always, always wear a helmet. Even if you’re just riding to the corner for a quart of milk. You never know when an accident might happen. How much is your head worth? Enjoy your summer, ride often, and think of me out here on the briny deep. It won’t be long until we’ll be riding together again. HFDF (Have Fun, Don’t Fall) John
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