This year’s great Toronto cycling victory is the long-awaited Bloor St. bike lane — space for bikes, cars, pedestrians, and subways in the same corridor. Something for everybody; how could that be controversial? Ah yes, it’s in Toronto, where cycling is still territorial.

There’s a great cycling moment when you lock eyes with someone. It isn’t flirting, though you could do that too because bikes are slow enough to allow for such brief encounters. Rather, this particular kind of eye contact is all utility: A subtle interaction with other commuters.

Sometimes it’s a motorist and cyclist at a four-way stop and one waves the other through. If all goes according to plan, somebody gets a little wave of thanks back. Or it might be a pedestrian about to cross the street a dozen meters up and a cyclist gives a nod to go, signaling they’re not going to bear down on the pedals but coast, leaving an opening. The crack of a smile is usually thanks enough.

These are moments of grace, when getting around the city on two wheels is a rare pleasure. So often it’s a fraught experience that, as near-daily news reports show, escalates to injury and death often. The vulnerability is why cyclists make so much noise, but why is it then that so many cyclists turn around and do the same thing motorists do?

Last month I wrote about the low skill level Toronto drivers have, and especially the deep inconsideration for others, including fellow motorists. But on further thought, the same applies to all commuters. Bad behavior is universal. In an ideal world each mode of transportation looks out for the one more vulnerable: Motorist to cyclist to pedestrian.

But routinely, cyclists blow through busy stop signs or red lights and ride through open streetcar doors. Often when I stop at an open door another rider either wobbles through, pretending to go so slow in between people that they’re unnoticeable, or they speed through. Maybe they think they’re too fast to be seen?

There’s also the very special kind of cyclist who rides on the sidewalk. Some even ring their bells to get pedestrians to move. A few, when questioned, will even cuss at you, as if it’s a typical car and bike confrontation in Toronto. Hey, I’m just walkin’ here.

What’s the impulse to make pedestrians feel vulnerable, doing the same things cyclists yell at motorists for doing? There seems to be a lack of empathy all around for other commuters. Empathy leads to yielding and sharing space, all things that seem difficult in Toronto.

I’m a cyclist, it’s my preferred way to get around, but also a pedestrian, transit rider and frequent motorist. And I’ve intentionally avoided saying “we” here when referring to cyclists because I don’t want to be part of a “we.” I understand the need to rally together and organize for better biking infrastructure and such — the new Bloor lane is the fruit of this kind of organized advocacy — but identity politics here seems to just further galvanize opposing sides. What if there was no “we,” just fellow city dwellers trying to get around the city in a variety of ways? Too utopic, perhaps.

Last year’s great cycling victory was the new Queens Quay shared path. But to ride it today is to watch speed demons darting through the waterfront crowds, ringing their bell like it’s a cattle prod and generally making people uncomfortable. Cycling infrastructure is hard won in Toronto, but sharing a special, busy space like Queens Quay should be common sense. Cyclists inherently know how to share the road because cars can kill them, and doing the same with pedestrians can mean more places to ride that cars can’t go.

Cyclists can call other cyclists out for their bad behavior, but going through a day looking for confrontation is a hard way to live. Of course bad motorist behavior is magnitudes more deadly than a cyclist’s, but more human empathy all around would lead to a bit more grace on our commutes. It’s OK to yield a bit.