Kyle Munson

kmunson@dmreg.com

ROCKWELL CITY, Ia. – According to Iowa law, Shawn Gosch's life was worth about $1,500 — or $3,500 less than the bicycle he was riding this year when a car hit and killed him on a rural highway.

Not that any price could bring him back. The 47-year-old husband, father and grandfather — and avid bicyclist — lived in Onawa on the western edge of the state, where he worked as chief financial officer for the local hospital.

He lay crumpled June 20 along an open stretch of pavement on a clear morning about six miles west of Manson in Calhoun County.

When it came time for last week's non-jury trial of the driver who killed Gosch, the magistrate judge in Rockwell City levied the maximum fine for the misdemeanor of "unsafe passing": an extra $1,000, for a total of $1,545 with court costs and fees. (Fines for two additional misdemeanors, lack of insurance and a seat belt, pushed the driver's total tab to $2,407.50.)

"Had (the driver) been on his cellphone or under the influence of something, we would've had more to work with," explained Calhoun County Attorney Tina Meth-Farrington.

Gosch's family and friends were left feeling that his death remained an "open wound" — no closure or justice.

"Something good has to happen out of this," Gosch's exasperated widow, Paige, said immediately after the trial, which lasted less than 10 minutes. "I don't want this to happen to somebody else."

"Bicyclists got just as much right on that highway as anybody else," Gosch's stepfather Bob said as he stood next to Paige and leaned against the wall to steady himself.

"Fifteen hundred and fifty bucks," said Bob Gosch, shaking his head. "That's what he got."

"For Shawn's life," Paige finished the sentence.

"That's ridiculous," Bob said. "That's just like a slap in the face."

"Something's got to give," Paige said before she broke down in tears. "You just can't get a $1,500 penalty for somebody's life, somebody's dad."

In decade, car crashes kill at least 60 bicyclists

Gosch was the first Iowa bicyclist killed on the road this year, according to the Iowa Department of Transportation. Two more have since died.

At least 60 Iowa bicyclists have been killed in car crashes in the last decade — the same decade that has seen the rise of such advocacy groups as the Iowa Bicycle Coalition and tentative new laws (including the $1,000 fine) in some effort to protect the two-wheeled, self-powered traffic that threads its way among the motorized behemoths.

Meanwhile, the high-stakes culture clash between cars and bikes has intensified.

The bicycling boom has triggered shouting matches over whether drivers or bicyclists are the true road hogs.

Accidents are inevitable. But the trend in the debate has focused on what types of penalties might actually deter bad drivers who zoom around bicyclists. And should bicyclists be granted extra protection as some of the most vulnerable users of the road?

A New York Times op-ed last year observed that "we're at a scary cultural crossroads on the whole car/bike thing."

"There is something undeniably screwy about a justice system that makes it de facto legal to kill people," wrote Daniel Duane, a contributing editor for Men's Journal, "even when it is clearly your fault, as long you're driving a car and the victim is on a bike and you're not obviously drunk and don't flee the scene."

Here in Iowa I feel some personal responsibility for the lives of Gosch and tens of thousands like him.

Each year my colleagues and I actively coax bicyclists onto the roads in the birthplace of the Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI).

Iowa fancies itself a bicycle-friendly state, with more than 1,600 miles of trails, plus new commuter bike lanes in downtown Des Moines.

Yet a popular sentiment remains among the cars-are-king crowd: We've spent how many millions of dollars carving bike trails across the prairie, and these idiots in tight shorts and goofy jerseys still must risk their lives on our roads as they joyride from one bar to the next?

Reality check: It's time we recognize that while the slow-moving traffic on a two-lane highway once was typified by a chugging tractor, bikes have become nearly as much a part of our rural landscape.

Before the crash, it was 'a picture-perfect day'

That flat stretch of Iowa Highway 7, six miles west of Manson where Gosch died, with the Pomeroy water tower visible through a small thicket of wind turbines, now is marked by a memorial cross. The 26-inch multicolored wooden cross stands vigil atop a post in the north ditch.

"It couldn't have been any more of a picture-perfect day for a bicyclist," said Jeff Gray, 49, Gosch's friend who pedaled in front of him that morning of June 20 and survived. "The sun to our back, light headwind. Somewhat cool. Clear, straight. No corners. No hills. There's no reason for this accident to happen."

The friends each year logged about 1,500 miles apiece, pedaling indoor training bikes through the winter.

But this would have been the pair's first back-to-back century ride — at least 100 miles on two consecutive days.

The plan was to bike from Onawa to Gray's friend's house in Fort Dodge. A thunderstorm forced the pair to arrange an early pickup in Nemaha, but they completed their 100 miles on city trails in Fort Dodge.

The next morning, June 20, Gray and Gosch were dropped off at the convenience store in Manson, where they split a breakfast pizza and chugged Gatorade.

They pedaled out of Manson at about 8:15 a.m. As usual, they switched order every five minutes to take turns drafting, speeding along at 18.2 miles an hour. They clung to the right on the 24-foot-wide highway.

Without warning, a station wagon struck Gosch from behind, propelled him into Gray and flung the latter bicyclist headlong into the ditch and knocked him unconscious.

"It was amazingly peaceful laying in the ditch," Gray said.

"It was sunny blue sky overhead, tall grass around me, and my first thought was that I was going to have to tell Shawn that I couldn't make it the rest of the way because I hurt too much."

Two people phoned 911 in the wake of the crash. One was the driver, Eric Meyer, 30, of Lake View.

"I'm on Highway 7 north of Twin Lakes," Meyer told the dispatcher in his first of two frantic phone calls. "I hit a bicyclist. I didn't see him in the glare." Later, he said of Gosch, "He's not moving."

Most common crash for bikes: Rear-end collision

Gray's helmet, although cracked, had protected his head. What hurt was a separated left shoulder, broken rib, punctured lung and fractured foot.

He has endured a painful physical recovery, but that hasn't been half as tough as the mental anguish over his friend's death.

"Last week I had a dream," Gray said, and then paused as a tear slid down his cheek, "that Shawn and I were on RAGBRAI. … I don't know how you can ever forget something like this."

Gray pulled his mangled Windsor aluminum bicycle from the basement of his family's ranch home on a quiet cul-de-sac in Onawa: The cracked back tire looked misshapen and melted like something out of a Salvador Dali painting.

What befell Gosch and Gray was the most common form of car-bike crash: a rear-end collision or "motorist overtaking bicyclist."

They also fell squarely within the age bracket (45 to 54) that claims the highest bicyclist fatality rate (3.93), according to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. (The average age of bicyclists killed in the last decade — the vast majority of them men — also has seen an uptick, from 36 to 43.)

It's a painful irony: Gosch began biking to save his life. He and Gray wanted to stave off high cholesterol, blood sugar and blood pressure.

Gosch and his widow, Paige, 46, would have celebrated their 19th anniversary in September. He left behind their sons, Logan, 16, and Keagan, 13, as well as a son and daughter from a previous marriage.

Gosch lunched with his daughter, Ashley Hobbs of Mitchell, S.D., just a week before he was killed. It also was a chance to see his 1-year-old granddaughter, Nora.

Eerie foreshadowing: Hobbs that day asked her dad why he biked so many miles. It's too dangerous, she chided him. Just think of all the drivers tapping away on their smartphones behind the wheel.

"He just said that he loved it so much," Hobbs, 27, said last week at the Calhoun County Courthouse.

Mark Wyatt, co-founder and executive director of the Iowa Bicycle Coalition, also attended Meyer's sentencing in Rockwell City.

"I think $1,000 is low," Wyatt said of the driver's fine.

He would revoke the licenses of bad drivers.

"Can we raise the penalty high enough that drivers start paying attention?" Wyatt said. "This 'I didn't see him on the road' is not an excuse. It's a confession."

Half of states specify buffer zones for bikers

Just three years ago, Iowa ranked No. 6 on the League of American Bicyclists' annual "Bicycle Friendly State" list, but has dropped to No. 25. Other states have gotten more ambitious based on a variety of criteria, including legislation.

Half the states now boast safe passing laws that define specific buffer zones for bicyclists of at least 3 feet. Wisconsin in 1973 became the first state to pass such a law. California's 3-foot law took effect just last month.

Oregon, meanwhile, hiked its fine for motorists who hit "vulnerable users" to $12,500.

In Iowa, part of the haggling has been over whether bicycles even qualify as "vehicles" in state law, with all the rights that conveys. Two years ago, the Iowa attorney general's office issued a letter to the Iowa Bicycle Coalition to affirm that, yes, they do: The rules for passing a car also should apply to passing a bike. That opinion, Wyatt said, convinced the DOT to edit its driver's manual to recommend that motorists change lanes when steering around bicyclists.

Iowa lawmakers in recent years have tried to pass laws to specify a 5-foot or 3-foot buffer zone for bicyclists. Instead, the $1,000 fine was passed in 2006, followed by language in 2010 that a driver "shall not steer the motor vehicle unreasonably close to or toward a person riding a bicycle."

Assuming that bicyclists as well as drivers follow the rules of the road, said state Sen. Joe Bolkcom, D-Iowa City, who has pushed some of the bike bills, cars are the "lethal weapons."

"There's been an edge … almost hostility if you will," Bolkcom said, "between some car drivers that happen to be legislators and the cycling community."

"We talk about health and wellness," added state Rep. Sharon Steckman, D-Mason City, who sponsored a 3-foot buffer bill last year. "Well, we need to encourage areas where people can do that."

Specific buffer zones have been popular among states, said Ken McLeod, the League of American Bicyclists' legal specialist, because they not only help raise awareness but also are more enforceable and easier to prove in court.

Wyatt, meanwhile, sees bicyclists (or vulnerable users) as no different from construction workers whose zones have been granted the extra deterrent of doubled fines. Why not do the same for all bicyclists, pedestrians and horseback riders — all non-motorized traffic — on the roads?

'I'm not a bad person,' convicted driver says

As somebody who not only bicycles but also drives across Iowa for a living, I'm not here to vilify motorists. Meyer looked forlorn last week as he sat in the courthouse hall and hung his head before the trial.

Even though the judge warned Meyer that his guilty plea could have ramifications in civil court if he's sued, he wanted to admit his guilt and move on.

"I've always been a proponent of cycling," said Meyer, who helped house bicyclists in Lake View when RAGBRAI stopped there overnight two years ago.

"I'm not a bad person, and I was flat-out crucified," Meyer said of the comments that peppered news stories last summer after the crash.

He will apologize to Gosch's family later, away from the media, Meyer said last week.

Paige and Gray kept reiterating that they hope to find some solace in prodding Iowa to catch up with other states and more explicitly protect bicyclists on the road.

Many attorneys remain skeptical that an ideal legislative solution exists for families mourning dead bicyclists.

"I would like to fix the problem," said Meth-Farrington, the Calhoun County attorney. "But I'm not sure how to fix it."

Awareness is key, as she sees it. So is empathy, I would add, whether we roll along on two or four wheels.

"The attitude has to change," Steckman said. " We need to share the road, period."

Sounds easy, but then I spot another memorial cross along the highway.

Kyle Munson can be reached at 515-284-8124 or kmunson@dmreg.com. See more of his columns, blog posts and video at DesMoinesRegister.com/munson. Connect with him on Facebook (Kyle Munson's Iowa) and Twitter (@KyleMunson).