I flipped off a driver today.

I was approaching a line of cars from behind, stopped at a red light. I saw no turn signals and so I slid around to the right, into the right hand turn lane to position myself to coast forward through the light that had just turned green. The last car in line, though without turn signal and without any indication at all, decided that’s where it wanted to be as well, and pulled up behind me. I wasn’t moving fast enough, so it honked, and honked, and honked, for as briefly as we shared a lane, maybe five seconds, the car continued to honk. And even until I was well into the intersection and it was turning. I turned around and flipped them the bird. The driver of that car probably didn’t see it, but I did.

In hindsight, in that case, no reaction at all would have been better.

A few days ago, maybe in the middle of last week, something very similar happened. The right hand turn lane was all mine, as traffic lined up at a red light. I coasted on into it to seamlessly go forward through the light with traffic, and as I did, the light turned green. There was a tap-tap of the horn of the car rolling up behind me. I wasn’t going slow, I just wasn’t going fast enough. I ignored it. There was another tap-tap of the horn. I ignored it. There, again, was another tap-tap of the horn. This time, I turned around while in motion, and over my shoulder I put my fingers to my lips and said, “shhhhhhhh.”

In that case, I rather liked my reaction, and wonder if the driver found it as comedic as I did. Possibly not.

I guess the rule is, for me, if the reaction is going to be an angry one, no reaction is better. If it’s going to be a silly one, go with silly.

Because the life of a cager is a frustrating one, especially if you’re a cager driving in a major metropolitan area like this one. And if you’re a cyclist, commuting often in a major metropolitan area like this one, a little compassion can go a long way. It can be argued that the cagers are responsible for sharing a little bit of mutual compassion, and I agree, but I wouldn’t count on it, and I’ll tell you why.

1. I don’t know who your parents were, but my parents were middle-class suburbanites with three children. Having a car was a way of life, absolutely necessary, and for the first 23 years of my life, this is what I understood. If you didn’t have a car, you were up a creek. Something was wrong with you. You couldn’t make ends meet, obviously, if you didn’t have a motor vehicle. Owning a vehicle, to some people, is a necessary as Jesus is to others. Often the same people.

2. You might not, but I remember being a driver, and I remember that bicycles on the road scared the shit out of me. Yes, I was angry at them. I was angry at them for making me change my course. I was angry at them for taking up space. I was angry at them for making me worry about them. Many cagers don’t really, fully understand what is meant by “share the road.” Many cagers don’t get that “sharing the road” is what cyclists do more of than they, because we can have the full lane if we want it, but we often choose to share it. Cagers, often, don’t share the road as much as they huffily do as little as it takes to not squeeze us off the road.

3. Their sense of entitlement to the road is being tested, not only by cyclists, but by the price of oil. It was already expensive to keep up car insurance, maintenance, and in the city, paying for parking, but now, gas is $5 a gallon. When you have built up your life over the course of years and years around the convenience of a motorized vehicle and cheap fuel, only to have the plan backfire, it’s frustrating.

4. They have a half a dozen children, take a cush job (or any job at all these days) fifty miles out, and have become accustomed to leaving their home perfectly groomed and coiffed and arriving perfectly groomed and coiffed. Their lives, as they know it, do not allow for bicycle commuting. They have been taught that to sweat is dirty, being caught in the rain will make you sick, helmets are both indispensable and fashion death, and they are taught that if they get on a bike in the city, they will be killed. The propaganda runs very, very deep.

Some cyclists with a motorized history (or present association, even) often fail to remember what being steeped in car culture was like. Anything less would be uncivilized, reckless, impractical, and downright obnoxious. They believe that bicycles are toys, and that the people who ride them in the city can not be respectable adults. Get in a car or get on a sidewalk, just get out of my way.

Never forget.

I try not to forget how mundane, boring, expensive and downright frustrating my everyday commute could be. And I try not to forget what it feels like, to try to slide past a cyclist and not harm them. It can be maddening. I try not to forget how ignorant I was, and how ignorant so many people I know are. I’ll never get those hours and hours back, when I could have been breathing fresher air and working my blood through my pounding heart instead of sitting, seething and eating drive-thru. I’ll never remember a time when I was a fitter young adult, because I never had been. A car was my birthright as a descendant of middle-class suburbanites. And I thank the angels who taught me that riding a bike would not kill me, but bring me closer to my own life and surroundings.

And this is why it’s on us to be the more compassionate ones, flip the bird less and bring more light to the road ahead of them. They are trapped, programmed and caged in those metal, motorized, poisonous things. They know no other way. How will they transport their children? How will they buy the groceries? How will they get to the only job they were able to find within the area that happens to be an hour commute out of the city? It’s frustrating.

The bicycle commuter either already had a life that lends itself to the bike, or they bravely found a way, made the sacrifices, came to the realization that with 45 minutes on a bike through the city they can avoid the hour-plus behind the wheel, driving, stopping, parking, paying. And they got their workout.

As cyclists who believe that the car is impractical and ultimately doomed, it is our responsibility to keep our integrity in such condition that when their hands are forced, our relationships aren’t so damaged that we can’t teach them our favorite quiet routes and how to fix their flats.

As cyclists who love our bikes because they have enriched our lives, we should try to always remember that they are like the addict who cannot fathom a life not seen through a windshield, from inside their wheeled cages. You don’t have to get angry. You can pity them. I think you’ll find that when you do, you are better able to enjoy the rest of your ride.

By the by, World Carfree Day is 9/22/11. Get the word out.

http://www.worldcarfree.net/