It happened long before Lance Armstrong, the Tour de France phenom, single-handedly transformed the lowly bicycle into the incarnation of elitism. The "it" I refer to is the politicization of road cycling, especially club road cycling.
(Before I go further, I had better explain that I, too, ride a bicycle, but I am not hardcore. I ride alone, for simple pleasure and exercise. Something else: I have been a motorcyclist since age 9. I still own three Harleys. I am a charter member of the Roadrunners Motorcycle Club of Madison, Wis., and I have ridden my chopped 1977 Superglide in every part of the United States, on some of our most dangerous backroads and interstates and city streets.)
So, I also love feeling of the wind in my face, the open road engulfing me as I glide along. I have experienced the heart-stopping presence of a motorized cage (car, truck, SUV).
Now, back to the politicization of road cycling. Nearly two weeks ago, Joe Pastore allegedly mowed down 20 members of the combined St. Petersburg Bike Club and the St. Pete Mad Dog Triathlon Club with his Lincoln Continental. Some say Pastore was angry because the cyclists took over the road and would not relent. I was not at the scene, but I am convinced that at least some of the cyclists in question - although within their legal rights as they followed the written "rules of the road" - did something to infuriate Pastore.
In too many instances, when club cyclists ride in groups - especially two abreast - what would normally be individuals riding their individual bikes, becomes a single organism. I know about this phenomenon from years of riding with my motorcycle club. Once that file of machines stretches out and the road captain (which I was for five years until I grew tired of leading the pack) sets the pace and establishes the mood and attitude, members of the group become one.
The ride becomes a political statement, if you will: "We are here. The road belongs to us, too. Your cages do not intimidate us. We have rights. We are cyclists. Our bikes may cost thousands, and our helmets and attire cost hundreds. We are important. This is an elite sport, so back off."
I am braced for hundreds of angry telephone calls, e-mails and letters. Fine. But I want my fellow lovers of the open road to hear me out.
I live along a popular bicycle route. I routinely see large groups of cyclists pass my apartment, and I share the road with them several days a week as I drive to and from work. I see even more on weekends. I always make a point of keeping my Blazer out of their way. I remain a safe distance behind, give them wide bearth when I pass and move back into my lane only after I can see the leader's entire bicycle in my rearview mirror.
I consider myself a mindful motorist who does not want to hurt anyone or cause anyone to fear my presence anymore than is natural for a cyclist. But I see too many cyclists who are arrogant, who glare at me, a motorist, as if I am committing a crime for trying to get to work on time. I have driven north on Third Avenue S behind as many as 50 cyclists two abreast. The street is narrow. I have wanted to pass cyclists against oncoming traffic without endangering them.
They, however, never show the courtesy to go single-file - for a few seconds - to let me pass while giving them a comfortable cushion of safety. Sure, as I have said, these cyclists are riding legally.
But they are riding dumb, too.
As I understand it, the purpose of last weekend's big ride from the site of the Pastore incident was to show solidarity. Good. If, though, the message was that cyclists will not be intimidated by motorists, the cyclists are as wrongheaded as their impatient, angry nemesis.
Bicycles are no physical match for a Lincoln Continental or a VW Bug, for that matter. Any cyclist who bogarts a motorist is a damned fool. If anyone must give up a piece of asphalt real estate, it is the cyclist. This is a hard lesson, and many cyclists, who are elitists, will reject it, arguing that the road is theirs, too.
Well, of course. But the road really belongs to the smart - the living and the uninjured - who have and use common sense.
Pastore may yet be charged with a crime. I do not know. What I do know is that the Pastores out there will not disappear. No laws will take them off the road. They are here to stay. Their cages are here to stay. Members of the St. Petersburg Bike Club and the St. Pete Mad Dog Triathlon Club would do well to learn this valuable lesson and adjust their attitudes accordingly.
Bicycling is not a political statement. Bicycling is bicycling.
