Psycho+Cyclist=Psyclist?

Today, I suffered the most egregious act of rudeness from a cyclist on the road. I’ve never seen anything like it. Since I grew up in this area, I’ve seen more than my fair share of bikes. Normally, I have zero issue with cyclists. I give them a ton of space, just as I do with motorcyclists, and if I pass them, I give them tons of space, and I go slowly. I’ve heard enough stories about cyclists getting “tapped” by inattentive drivers…very, very, very scary.

As I see it, the cyclist has several options:

1. Use the bike path.
2. Use the sidewalk.
3. Use the road, but move out of traffic just enough to let cars pass.
4. Ride with an entourage who can toss grapes into their mouth, fan them, and throw ninja stars at the tires of cars that get a bit too close.


It’s Sunday afternoon, around 3:30PM. I’m heading west on NE 124th Street (English Hill), from Avondale Road, on my way to Woodinville. It’s a nice Indian summer day, and traffic is pretty busy for a Sunday. I head up the hill (one of my favorites, it’s twisty), the wind blowing through my hair…life is good.

I reach the plateau and notice that traffic has slowed down. I’m not sure what’ going on, but in front of me, I see an elderly fellow in a Buick, with a full car. I’m in a good mood; I’m not late for work or an appointment, so I’m just kind of puzzled at this point. Then, I see the cyclist to the right. He’s on the road, at least three feet inside the line. This freaks Old Man Buick out. He shuts down. So he creeps along behind the cyclist. He can’t get next to him. He can’t pass, because it’s a double yellow and we’re going up and down hills, so he’s paralyzed with fear that he’ll hit the oncoming car that is going 50 mph, which is the typical speed on this road. I get it, I’m not going to chastise him for observing the double yellow, and after all, we ARE going at about 20 mph in our jolly lane, so…we’re at a SLIGHT disadvantage in terms of timing a strategic illegal pass. That said, I would have dodged the cyclist and just gone along my merry way, but again, I think Old Man Buick was terrified of hitting the cyclist or certain death by head-on collision.

At this point, I’m expecting the cyclist to take pity on our frustrated souls. Perhaps he might consider riding ON the line, or scooching over just a HAIR, so Old Man Buick can work up the courage to drive next to him for a split second. I’m waiting for this common sense to unfold, but it does not. Instead, the cyclist does the LEAST likely thing. HE MOVES INTO THE CENTER OF THE LANE, in front of Old Man Buick. I am not joking. I am in total shock at this point.

What do you think this did for Old Man Buick? He couldn’t handle being the freaking PILOT FISH to the cyclist (what’s wrong with this picture?). So he assumes the Police Escort position. He actually drives behind the cyclist. I didn’t realize wearing black and yellow spandex and riding a bicycle made you worthy of police escort. Had I known this, I might wear…uhh…nope, I still say no to spandex. Sorry.

If you think it sucks to be Old Man Buick, think of how much it sucked to be me, the car behind this, who can SEE this psychotic scene unfolding, or the car behind me, who can’t see anything and fears that the two cars in front of him are being driven by PARALYZED slow Seattle Drivers.
We’re going downhill, which means my typical speed would hit about 55 mph. This is not unusual for this hilly road. The cyclist is having some kind of Tour de France moment, because he’s racing downhill at what had to be about 30 mph. He’s Lance Freaking Armstrong!

By this time, I’m so infuriated; the red mist starts to creep in from both sides. This is how one of our good friends describes the moment at which you go from irritated to physical fury. Fists clench, eyes squint, jaws lock. It’s Go Time.

Finally, we reach the bottom of the hill (Redmond-Woodinville Road) and it’s a red light. I’m so relieved that it’s over…at this point I’m just trying to figure out where Lance is going next, so I can NOT follow him. He’s going straight—fine. I’ll go right. And then I see it. The cherry on top of the sundae. The cyclist does not stop for the red light. Instead, I see him give a Thank You hand wave to Old Man Buick. Oh yes, you’re SO welcome for forcing us to go 30 mph in a 45 mph, stacking more than five cars behind you (illegal for us motor vehicles, in case you weren’t aware).

Here’s the deal: I hate it when cyclists follow traffic laws when the mood suits them. It’s not even like sailboats and sailboarders having the right of way on the water, because the water has no freaking LANES to which you’re confined. If I drive next to you, I’m an ass…but you can just ride in the middle of the lane, on a main road with a 45 mph speed limit? It’s not the first time I’ve seen this. I see cyclists take off at red lights all the time. Yes, I KNOW they could use the benefit of a head start. So could I! Except I’ll be ticketed or cause an accident and get two tickets. I don’t know why cyclists feel that red lights are just not relevant to them. They rely on cars to follow rules AND steer clear of them, even when they’re on main roads that run PARALLEL TO A BIKE PATH. So…perhaps they could show a little respect for the speed limit, not holding up more than five cars behind you (pull over, already!), and traffic lights.

Photo Caption: Can’t see the cyclist? That’s because he’s in the middle of the lane, in front of the brake lights I’m looking at.