eksasies 34

I was cycling to work along a bit of footpath – where the road was clogged with messy, too-close-to-the-kerb traffic – and a cranky man wearing a white beard and a scowl snarled at me, "You have to be 16 years or under to ride on the footpath."

First, let's disregard the fact that I had already stopped and dismounted to let him pass, so what was his gripe? Up ahead a herd of wheely-bins were blocking the footpath because the block of flats who owned them couldn’t care less about inconveniencing the public. As I'd slowed my bike, I'd watched White Beard shove one aside as he weaved through them. This might have been what ticked him off. Or maybe he'd run out of muesli, or had a fight with his wife this morning. Or maybe he was just a cantankerous old bugger all the time.

Nevertheless, I was in need of standing up for my rights this particular morning. With a sweet smile and my most reasonable voice, I pointed to the bicycle painted in white on the footpath, and explained that I was indeed allowed to cycle here, on this shared path.

No surprise he grunted and walked off. Bad enough that he'd run out of All-Bran and trodden in dog poop outside his front door, now some patronizing smart arse cyclist is giving him lip. It's going to be a bad day.

And this smart arse cyclist decided it would just be easier to use the road in future. When I arrived at work, I found the bicycle road rules online. He was wrong about the 16 years old rule. It's 12 years. And I read with interest the definition and rules regarding a "Shared Path": cyclists must give way to any pedestrians. So I'd done the right thing. Nyer to you, White Beard!

A few days later, I was riding along the road just a block further on from the site of the White Beard incident. A motorist yelled at me to "Use the Bike Path!!!" (Like a lot of other drivers, he was suffering acute Tuesdayitis after a too short Easter holiday. Impatient car horns were rife.) I could have said to him that the Shared Path is pointless. If pedestrians have absolute right of way, then I may as well get off my bike and walk. But he'd have happily agreed with that arrangement. Nor did I bother telling him that i own a car and pay road taxes and am entitled; and i could even have quoted the road rules:

Under NSW legislation a bicycle is considered as a vehicle. Cyclists have the right, like other vehicles, to use the road and be shown courtesy and care by other road users.

Ha. If anyone ever shows me courtesy on the road, it's so unexpected I don't know how to deal with it.

I didn't bother saying anything because I knew my words would be wasted on a cranky commuter. They were certainly wasted on the cranky pedestrian a few days ago.

Instead, a little white flag waved itself in my heart and, for just a moment, I gave up. No matter what I do, wherever I ride, I'm patently unwelcome, I suffer abuse, I should just forget cycling.

Then this passive quitterness was quickly replaced - thank god - by an even stronger determination to cycle - to be an even stronger presence on the roads and footpaths. And I also realized this blanket abuse was my freedom. Since I'm going to bug people no matter what I do, then it doesn't matter what I do. I'll (legally) ride where it suits me and stop trying to please the pedestrians or the motorists. They clearly CAN'T be pleased.

With the welling of this determination to keep riding, against all critics and cranks, I ALMOST began to understand the militant aggressive - openly hostile - stance of the Critical Mass riders. But only almost. I still naively hope that the road to happy communality on the roads is achieved through peace not war. In the meantime, I guess I'm going to have to piss-off a couple of people. Because me, my bike, and all the other cyclists, aren't going away. Ever.