via Commentary: As cyclists, this is what we’re up against | CyclingTips
“Like it or not, cyclists are engaged in a civil-rights battle — about whether we deserve a truly safe place on the road, whether people who kill us with cars should face the same legal consequences as people who kill with other weapons, whether hundreds of human lives represent acceptable collateral damage in a properly lubricated car-focused economy.”
I live in an area of Southeast PA where cycling is prevalent. Many cyclists I know are afraid to ride on the open roads, myself included, because we, as drivers ourselves, see how other motorists treat cyclists. I might have AFLAC, but my life and my ability to walk are important to me and my family’s future. Whether or not you injure or kill me with your car should be important to you as well.
I’m still a person, regardless if I’m on my bicycle on Rt. 100, High Street or some rural road in the middle of nowhere. That 30 seconds tops you have to wait to get around me *safely* isn’t going to get you to your destination any faster.
Would you lay on your horn, scream obscenities, throw garbage at, or try and run off a super huge farm vehicle traveling a hell of a lot slower than I am? No, you wouldn’t. You’d wait your turn like a good little Hulkamaniac. You’ll skulk about it but you and said farm vehicle would be safe and quickly part ways.
Why is it different with a cyclist? Does it make you feel more righteous to verbally and vehicularly threaten another person? Do you go around bullying small children and drop-kicking puppies and kittens?
Admittedly, there are some cyclists who are just as pig-headed as some drivers in demanding their position is the correct one. However, we on a bicycle will not kill or maim you if we hit you. YOU can kill us.
That text, Tweet, or Facebook message, checking your makeup, eating your Big Mac – these things ARE NOT more important than paying attention to where you are pointing your implement of death on four wheels.
Your destination isn’t more important than someone else’s life.
Let me repeat that: