I've noted in previous posts that Canadians, by and large, do indeed tend toward courtesy and politeness, in accord with their international reputation. But there is a glaring exception: Canadians operating wheeled vehicles. (Possibly unwheeled ones, too; I haven't had enough experience with boats or Skidoos* to generalize further.) Give Canadians a car, a bicycle, a motorcycle, or a truck, and they too easily switch from polite Dr. Jekylls to wild Mr. Hydes. Yes, even cyclists; they can be horrible to cars, pedestrians, and each other. Lately I notice that my tweets (@lectoronto) are all about safety on the streets. I started composing a Cyclists' Manifesto. Rule No. 1: 'If thou chooseth to ride the wrong way on one-way streets [and occasionally, I acknowledge, it is best], thou shalt give way to everyone and everything else: cars, bikes, pedestrians, cats, even insects. And thou shalt stop at every single intersection even though there is no stop sign facing thee (because thou art going the wrong way, ding-dong)'. I've become a real Disgusted of Harbord Village.
I espouse the 'go slow, be nice' philosophy of road use and try very hard to obey it, too, but the provocation is such that I often fail. A few weeks ago, en route by bike to collect daughter at school, a man with a stretched face and a ragged grey beard driving a silver tin can of a hatchback shouted at me. 'Stop, you dumb bitch,' he said, and, without indicating, drove across my path and turned left. Full of outrage, I gave chase, but he got away. Upon reflection I felt less upset at the 'bitch' part of the comment than at the 'dumb'. How dare he.
In the last day or two, I've had several near misses on bike and on foot, involving drivers of trucks, cars, and bikes. The nice thing is that in summer, with windows rolled down, I can offer my feedback live and on the spot, as well as venting via tweets to @bikeTO or #cycleToronto. For example, yesterday, riding along wearing my day-glo lime-green jacket, I could ask the reversing truck driver whether I wasn't bright enough for him to see me. 'I saw you,' he admitted. I guess he just didn't think I would make much of a dent in his rear bumper.
As my eldest child takes more and more to using two wheels to get around town, I am both delighted and fearful. 'Be careful. Trust no one,' I counsel him. Especially not Torontonians on wheels.
Go slow, be nice.
Deep breaths.
Ommm.
The man in the silver tin can, by the way, had Ontario license plates beginning with the letter A. If you spot him, please tell him from me that he's a ding-dong.
*Canadian for 'snowmobile'
No comments:
Post a Comment