The Clairebarian and I are stopped at the corner of 23rd and St Georges facing south. I’d claim it’s the most dangerous intersection remaining in the City Of North Vancouver’s (CNV’s) Green Necklace but I don’t have any statistics to back that up. Certainly, we’ve had plenty of close-enough events there whether it’s been in the cargo bike or on her trailer bike and now she’s out there on her bike trying to learn some city-cycling smarts of her own.
I point to the car across the street with its left turn signal flashing. “When the light turns green she’s going to come right through the intersection so hold back a second before you roll just to be safe.” Oh, I know how it goes, the sun was in her eyes or she just didn’t see us, and somehow those are excuses rather than admissions of guilt.
As if on cue the light turns green and she floors it wide, wider than I expected even, and I take careful stock of the situation. If she keeps going I’m getting clipped for sure but Claire’s in the clear. I obviously should have taken my own advice but at this point, there’s really nothing to do but turn my bike into her – always better on the hood than under the tires. Then, as has happened too many times before she catches sight of us and stops abruptly. We’re free to cross, the driver of the truck planning to make a right at the other end of the intersection has waited.
The crazy thing is, I wasn’t even mad. No birds were flipped, and no words were yelled in anger. The driver turning left today performed a valuable service and I know Claire’s very nervous “UHhhh!” was worth a hundred theoretical conversations. And heck, if I lost a piece of my mind every time someone almost hit me with their car there wouldn’t be anything left. But, unfortunately, or deserved, I can’t claim to have been the model of maturity for our entire adventure.
The Clairebarian and I rode home from Braemar Rd today. Our favourite access point for Mt. Fromme. We made all the safest choices. Powerline trail, Princess Park, quiet side roads, bike lanes, the Green Necklace. By and large, it was really pleasant and fantastic practice for the other side of cycling, which is getting places.
By far the scariest few meters of the journey is always crossing the westbound Hwy 1 on-ramp to access the District Of North Vancouver’s (DNV’s) sometimes-separated Lynn Valley Rd bike lane. Right across the street from where Larry Talker and I were almost smoked in December. It’s got painted pedestrian protection, great sight lines for both drivers and cyclists, and it’s fucking terrifying as folks accelerate to highway speed in an effort not to lose their position on the on-ramp to a driver also trying to access it from the other direction.
It’s here, on making eye contact with a driver, that they display one of two choices in their love language towards cyclists. They can slow down and use their vehicle as a shield to protect those crossing from the rabid road rushers behind them. Or, they can accelerate through, using their vehicle like a sword to cut a path between two points of relative safety. Tonight, the first driver did the latter and, thankfully, the second driver did the former.
Okay, that sounds like fairly good odds to me too. Imagine if 50% of drivers chilled the hell out and used their multi-ton masses to shield more vulnerable road users. Even if it’s just when we have the right of way, never mind in general.
But what had my blood boiling, as driver number one stabbed through, is that I know the guy. He’s a mountain biker. And anyone who’s ridden a bike around cars ever should fucking know better. We made proper eye contact. He, and little Claire, and I. And sure, I can’t pull a name out of a hat at the moment but the cast of As The Shore Turns isn’t that big.
He wasn’t the biggest asshole with a North Shore Rack, because his pickup truck had a different external bike carrying system but you get the point. And I suppose that’s the moral of the story. If you’re a cyclist, or even if you’re just a mountain biker, you’ve ridden bikes around cars and you know how intimidating it can be in some situations. So, when you’re driving a car – be better. It’s not that fucking hard.