Road Tax

Like so many road cyclists, I've had my share of people who pull up along side me, roll down their windows, and scream at me to get off the road. I've had assholes get ahead of me, only to put two wheels onto the shoulder to kick up dirt and gravel.

I've had idiots tell me that they don't pay their "road tax" to share said roads with cyclists.

There's no such thing as a road tax, and if there is (provincial and municipal tax?), I pay just as much as drivers do.

These drivers are boneheads and for the most part, I can ignore them. But there are other problems that I face when I'm on my bike that are sometimes hard to avoid.

Potholes.

There are a lot of roads in the city and outskirts that are really, poorly maintained. Some have no paved shoulder, and that's okay as long as the roads themselves are in decent shape, though some have edges that are cracked up, to the point where the edges have crumbled into the shoulder. Usually, these roads aren't as bad for motorized vehicles, but if you're a cyclist, you often find yourself moving further out into the road and into the way of traffic.

Some roads do have paved shoulders, and I tend to seek these out. With a paved shoulder, I can easily put myself further out from the white line on the sides of the roads, which means that a passing car or truck does not have to move into the centre line to pass me. Good for me: good for them.

But there are some of these paved shoulders that are in really bad shape. Some are covered in dirt or scattered with bits of gravel, or worse—shards of glass and twisted pieces of metal. When I encounter this sort of debris, I'm forced to move out into the lane to avoid it, possibly putting myself in danger.

There are also some roads where the paved shoulders are riddled with potholes. And not just fist-sized potholes: I'm talking crater-sized potholes, that could easily hide furry animals or small children.

Take Fallowfield Road, in the southwest end of Ottawa, between Moodie Drive and Steeple Hill Crescent, near the village of Fallowfield. If you're cycling westbound, you have to pay close attention to the shoulder. There's a lot of gravel strewn along it. There are potholes so big that if they were on the main part of the road, drivers would be up in arms.

And, along this stretch of road, the posted speed limit is 80 kph, of which many drivers exceed.

On Sunday, DW and I were cycling along this stretch of road, on our way to Stittsville. DW was close behind me, and because she was so close, she had to take her cues of where to move based on where I put my bike.

I was weaving all over the shoulder, avoiding debris, rocks, and mostly, potholes. As I passed the turn-in for Monaghan Forest, I saw a lot of gravel on the outer part of the shoulder, so I moved closer to the car lane. But as I moved out, I saw a massive pothole directly in front of me, and the road-side of the painted white line was also in bad shape.

Because there were fast-moving cars coming up from behind us, I couldn't move further out into the road, so I tried to squeeze between the pothole and the scattering of gravel. And that's when I saw it: another large pothole.

At this point, there was little I could do: I stood on my pedals, lifting my butt from my seat. I pulled up on my handlebars so that my front wheel could jump the hole. I didn't have time to warn DW: I could only let out a yelp.

My back wheel hit the pothole hard. I could feel the sharp jar through my body. My upper and lower teeth smashed together and vibrated throughout my jaw. With the front wheel cleared of the hole and firmly back on the ground, I saw a small black object flying up in front of me and head toward the overgrown ditch. My trajectory was straight into gravel, and as I fought to slow down, down I went.

DW also hit the pothole, but because she saw my last-minute swerve and heard my yelp, she didn't seem to hit the hole as hard. She was mostly focused on me, making sure I was all right.

"My phone has flown off my bike," I said, getting to my feet. I was a bit shaken but was thankfully able to unclip a shoe from my pedal before I hit the ground, and I slid more than I fell.

I have a phone holder that is mounted on my bike. I've had it for many years and through three or four smartphones. As the length of newer phones have increased, the holder has now become stretched to its maximum for my current phone. It holds snugly, but as I had just learned, if my bike receives a powerful blow, the holder will launch my phone.

I put my bike down on the slope of the ditch, away from traffic, and looked back at the tall growth between the potholes and where the marks my tires had left in the gravel had begun. Somewhere, in there, my phone was hiding from me.

Luckily, my watch has a find-my-phone app, which pings my smartphone. My phone makes a loud noise, like a high-pitched radar blip. Immediately, I could hear the sound, but with the traffic moving, it took a few moments to pinpoint its location.

It's not our falls that define us: it's how we get back up and carry on that does.

With my phone back in its holder and myself dusted off, we continued our ride. DW, thankfully, was no worse for wear, though she did say that she nearly slammed into the back of me.

Our city really needs to maintain our roads. And that includes our paved shoulders. I have logged a report with the city, citing the location of these hazards.

There is no road tax. We all pay the same taxes. And because we do, cyclist should be shown the same consideration as drivers do. We deserve to have safe places to ride upon.

Share the Road

Now that the one-metre cycling law in Ontario has come into effect, the vitriol in the backlash from some drivers has heated up. On news posts, on the radio, on television, and all over social media, drivers of motorized vehicles balk at the law, which states that a vehicle that is passing a cyclist must maintain a minimum of one metre of distance from the cyclist. If it is unsafe to pass, the motor vehicle must wait, behind the cyclist, until it is safe to pass.

Yesterday, as my cycle group traveled on Century Road, just south of Manotick, some asshole, passing the 12 of us on a straight road with plenty of visibility and plenty of room, decided to get as close to us as he could  as he sped by. Never mind that there was a vehicle that was ahead of him and gave us a wide berth. His car spewed black smoke from his exhaust as he hit his accelerator (not like those brain-dead, rolling-coal drivers: his car was just a piece of shit) and I could see him laughing as he came close to me.

And cyclists are the hazard?

It happens every time we go for a group ride: someone will blare his horn as he guns past; another person will scream "get off the road," fist shaking; still, another will pass us, only to drift onto the shoulder of the road to kick up dirt for us.

I'm not saying that all cyclists are law-abiding and conscientious toward drivers. Some cyclists will blow through stop signs; others will weave in and out of traffic; still, others will cycle the wrong way down a one-way street or on the wrong side of the road, or will travel on sidewalks.

As a member of the Ottawa Bicycle Club, before you participate in your first group ride, you must attend a clinic where you are reminded of the rules of the road and you are taught how to travel safely in a group. On a ride, there is a leader who has experience with group rides, who makes sure we all follow the rules, and who points out when we screw up.

We ride on the right side of the road. We stop at all signs and red lights. On county roads, when we come to a stop sign, we slow right down, and come to a full stop if other traffic is approaching. If there is no traffic, we still slow to a near stop, but we won't actually stop because it's safer for the group to keep moving. But make no mistake, we make damned sure there are no other vehicles approaching the intersection before we make that call to keep rolling.

We ride two-abreast when road conditions allow for it. In Ontario, it is legal for us to do so, but we only do it when we have ample, paved shoulders or we are travelling on roads with four or more lanes. We ride in single file when the shoulder isn't paved and we're on a busy, two-laned road.

We respect the rules of the road and other vehicles.

And yet, on every ride, there is at least one dipshit who feels he has to intimidate us or try to run us off the road.

Yes, there are bad cyclists, but they are not the norm. Just as there are bad drivers who are not the norm.

So, you have to ask yourself: if you're the type of driver who becomes enraged at the sight of a cyclist on the road, who sounds your horn as you pass them, who drives dangerously close, who purposely kicks up dirt, who screams for the cyclist to get off the road, who do you really think is the problem?

We all belong on the road. Let's share it.