On the morning of Sept. 8, I read about the death of a Seattle bicyclist and the injury of his companion under a large truck.Later in the day, I was late to the funeral of an old friend because the route was block off for another witless bicycles-only event. As I detoured through other streets, I stopped for crosswalk pedestrians, one with a child in a stroller, as two intrepid, noble kinds of the saddle breezed through without slowing, let alone - perish the thought of being inconvenienced - stopping.
Seattle streets are a mess. Seattle traffic policy is a mess. Car and truck traffic by itself is dangerous enough, and it is made far more dangerous by touchy-feely programs to accommodate a horde of largely incompetent and dangerous cyclists, on streets that are already overloaded by car traffic.
When I was 10 years old, I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude when my parents gave me a new bicycle for Christmas. It was a black Shelby Traveler, which I rode proudly to school, only to find it criticized and demeaned by some of my creepier classmates because it was not whatever make and type considered the height of fourth-grade style.
And I, stupid as they, expressed my diminished regard for the bicycle to my father, who made me a much wiser, more grownup and appreciative person by telling me how hard it was to afford to buy me a new bicycle at all.
My father was a man I've never deserved, but the bicycle incident figured in my respect for him in all our lives together and since his death years ago.
I'm from a time when bicycles mattered only to children. Adults did not ride them, except in rare, specialized use.
Adult looked forward to being able to afford to buy cars. No one dreamed of being seen in tights on bicycles, hindering traffic. Time was, such activities might earn citations and indecent-behavior charges ("Your Honor, the defendant was wearing this skin-tight, yellow outfit that left nothing to the imagination, shocking two old ladies, so they drove right off the road...").
Grownups. On bicycles. Wearing all colors of weird, sissy tights. Incredible.
Not so long ago, a gang of bicyclists intentionally blocked car traffic to make some sort of statement. They encountered some equally maturity-challenged police, and a lot of yelling and rolling around on the street kept the poor, dumb, car-driving gas-hog public at a standstill as their still-running engines wasted more gas.
Bicyclists have themselves to thank for the image of self-involved, self-promoting, whining champions of the freedom and nature-friendliness of cycling. I see them as endangerments to the already-endangered and overcrowded streets.
Fools endangering their tiny children, tied into teeny, little trailers and towed behind the adult's bicycle in heavy traffic. In a protection-conscious culture, why aren't these nuts in jail?
About 95 percent of the bicycle people here don't stop at stoplights or stop signs. And a large number of bicyclists here are physically unable to ride safely or simply don't know or care how. Those are the people who people like me need to cope with day after day.
This summer, my little MGB Roadster's brakes overheated, and I had to stop briefly on the narrow (legal) parking verge on Seward Park Avenue South. As I labored in the summer heat, a burly woman on a bicycle whizzed by, yelling, "Park somewhere else." Those are the people we see, as well as their compatriots agitating for special consideration for their intrusion into already-troubled and dangerous traffic areas - demanding privilege without responsibility.
Why should I respect people who endanger their own babies in little trailers and twits who burden car drivers with added worries and risks, trying to protect bikers who don't even have the honesty to stop at stop signals and crosswalks?
I've lived in this pretentious town since 1949 B.C. (Before Cyclists). This is the burg that paid image makers $200 grand to name it "metronatural." This is where the police force hasn't been essentially enlarged during decades of enormous population increase and corporate profit.
This is the city for twits. This is the city for twits living in costly downtown, soul-less condo skyscrapers. It's for twits getting wasted in the clubs. It's for twits who tie up and endanger motorists to make statements about the superiority of the Bicycle Vision.
It's a self-important, shallow, money-hungry, on-the-make mess.
Even it's big, world-class, outdoor art park used big, international names, instead of having the guts to support more Northwest artwork. It's perfect for the Bicycle Vision - for twits.
A bright spot: On Sept. 9, I drove up Lake Washington Boulevard and then McGilvra Boulevard to Madison Park. At the stop sign at East Madison Street, a young, female bicyclist ahead of me actually stopped - a full, complete stop. I was thrilled.
I called out, "You're the only biker I can remember who stopped at a stop sign." And she called back, "I don't want to get hit."
I wish I'd asked her name. Perhaps she could have led this culture to change and fulfillment.
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