TORONTO

They tell me the smelts are running up in Kagawong, so spring has finally sprung.

Down here in the Big Smoke, we are more concerned about another mass of silvery, slippery, slithering, slimy creatures that bursts forth at this time of year.

Cyclists. Schools of them.

Get out your net.

Though cyclists’ genetic link to smelts has never been scientifically established, they exhibit many of the same traits.

They even spawn — despite the constant pressure of that seat on their reproductive parts — which explains why their species didn’t peter out long ago and why they swarm our roads with a single-minded urgency in their beady little eyes.

Like smelts, cyclists swim upstream, upsidewalk, upcrosswalk, upintersection, up anything they bloody well please. However, unlike a smelt, which weighs barely three ounces, the average cyclist packs at least 200 pounds, including bike, helmet, cellphone and middle finger.

In my neighbourhood, the mockingly named Garden District east of Dundas Square, it is a daily coin toss as to which will mow you down first — a rampaging panhandler, a stripper late for duty at Filmores, an obese pigeon ... or a blissed-out cyclist.

The long and especially cruel winter has been a reprieve of sorts. Likely you have noticed our city’s many bicycle lanes — icycle lanes? — become wasted space 10 minutes after the first frost. Only the most militant bicycultist pedals in January.

Like smelts, cyclists hibernate.

This lulls the rest of us into a false sense of serenity. We let down our guard against cyclists, especially bicycultists, which are the most rabid version of the breed.

For the safety of all, here is a reminder of how drivers and other normal people can deal with the spring run of city cyclists.

First, don’t run them over, even accidentally. Cyclists may behave like spawning fish, but they are people, too. They bruise, and are bruised.

Seriously, drivers. Keep your wits about you, your eyes peeled. Pedestrians, too.

According to dandyhorsemagazine.com, a bicycle newsletter, cyclemaniacs have been mowing us down since 1871, when a pedestrian was knocked out cold and “had to go to bed at once” after Toronto’s first recorded bicycle accident.

1871?! My goodness. The “bicycult” is nearly as old as this country.

However, cyclists, like smelts, are an introduced species. They are not native to these parts (though come to think of it neither are cars.)

Still, the two-wheel interlopers are a fact of life in today’s Toronto.

Remember, cycling is synonymous with socialism. Left-wing civic icons like late 1970s mayor John Sewell and longtime councillor Olivia Chow famously rode their bicyclettes to work at City Hall.

Rob Ford has never done so. A bicycle that sturdy has yet to be invented. I can’t see Mayor John Tory on a bicycle, either, unless it has a chauffeur.

Weirdly, though, more separated bike lanes — like the one now throttling Sherbourne St. — blossomed in Ford’s term as mayor than in his eco-nut predecessor David Miller’s.

Bicycle politics makes strange bedfellows. But back at street level ...

You need to get re-acquainted with the language, verbal and otherwise, of cyclists. It is easy to get rusty, in such a long winter.

I have already mentioned the middle-finger salute. Often it is a fear reflex, since even a pedestrian-maiming bicycle is no match for a 5,000-pound Ford F150.

The middle finger, especially when accompanied by a howl or a curse, also translates as, “Back off or I’ll sic David Suzuki on you!”

Do not engage. Rational discussion is impossible. I once was lambasted by a little old lady cyclist when two cops pulled over my Indy race car. Long story, but the only place to stop was a bike lane. She even scolded the cops.

Therein lies the key to understanding cyclists. For them, cycling is not just a means to an end, it is a statement. To wit:

“I’m a planet-loving eco-warrior. And you’re not.”

Your teenager is a lot like that, eh? Full of righteousness and rebellion.

So treat a cyclist like a teenaged smelt. Be kind. Let them find their path. Eschew physical force.

And get the hell out of the way when their hormones are running.

Strobel’s column usually runs Monday to Thursday. Hear him Tuesday and Thursday mornings on 94.9 The Rock FM.

mike.strobel@sunmedia.ca