BikePGH — the local cycling advocacy group — does little that benefits me as a cyclist. But now they’ve done something so irresponsible and shortsighted that it has put all cyclists in much greater danger.

They’ve stopped asking police to enforce traffic laws that protect cyclists and pedestrians.

The Latest Cyclist Killed

You read that right. This organization that exists to represent and protect cyclists has publicly announced that they no longer care if the police enforce state and local laws that protect cyclists. In their own words: “Removing enforcement is our only conscionable path forward.”

Here’s their press release, entitled “ENFORCEMENT IS NO LONGER PART OF BIKEPGH’S STRATEGY FOR SAFER STREETS”. Go ahead and read it. I’ll wait...

I can’t even begin to describe how fucking stupid this is.

Pennsylvania already has a deadly enforcement problem. I’ve lived here for five years and I have never once seen a vehicle pulled over for a traffic violation. Police are even prohibited by law from using radar detectors!

If possible, it’s become even worse during the pandemic, because police would prefer to let all nonviolent crimes go, rather than stop someone and possibly breach social distancing guidelines.

And now one of the biggest cycling groups in the state is sending the message: “We’re politically anti-police, and want you to stop enforcing the law.” The average beat cop is gonna love hearing that!

After decades of minimal traffic enforcement, there’s already a longstanding culture here of aggressive driving, speeding, impaired driving, blatant disregard for traffic controls, and driving without a license. Those behaviors are even less restrained now, thanks to BikePGH’s dangerously irresponsible position.

I care about social inequality and Black lives, and I wholeheartedly support the demilitarization of the police. However, encouraging lawlessness on the roads does absolutely nothing to advance those causes. Asking the police to stop enforcing traffic law has only one consequence: harming cyclists and pedestrians.

There is no clearer way they could say it: BikePGH is willing and happy to see more cyclists killed and injured on Pennsylvania roads, if it might vaguely benefit a political cause that — no matter how laudable — has no relationship to cycling or BikePGH’s mandate.

Thank you BikePGH. You have made it very easy to resolve that you will never receive any time, money, or support from me. As an organization representing cyclists, you have violated our trust and abandoned all pretense of responsibility to your mission, to your dues-paying members, and to your community; and you have put every cyclist in this region in greater danger every day.

Me and randonneuring, we have a history, and it’s not all wine and roses. But as with my Gatorade Escapade, enough time has passed that I feel safe sharing another hidden aspect of my cycling history.

Randonneurs USA badge

Twenty years ago, when I returned to cycling as an adult, it was clear that I was going to be a long-distance (endurance) rider. And in looking for clubs and events that emphasized long rides, I learned of the New England Randonneurs and their Boston Brevet Series of rides.

What’s all that, then? To explain, here’s an excerpt from the ride report for my first brevet, back in 2006:

First, what’s a brevet? A brevet or randonnée is an organized long-distance bicycle ride. Cyclists—who, in this discipline, are referred to as randonneurs—follow a designated but unmarked route (usually 200km to 1200km), passing through check-point controls, and must complete the course within specified time limits. Randonnée is a French word which loosely translates to ‘ramble’ or ‘long journey’. Brevet means ‘certificate’ and refers to the card carried by randonneurs which gets stamped at controls; it is also used to refer to the event itself. Randonneurs do not compete against other cyclists; randonnées are a test of endurance, self-sufficiency, and cyclo-touring skills.

The ultimate randonnées are Paris-Brest-Paris and Boston-Montréal-Boston, both of which are 1200k (750 miles). You must complete a series of four brevets of increasing distance to qualify for PBP or BMB: the lengths of those qualifying rides are 200k (125 miles), 300k (190 miles), 400k (250 miles), and 600k (375 miles).

Twelve years ago, I’d just completed that first 200k brevet, and was eager for more. I scoured the internet for blogs by experienced randonneurs and online discussions.

It was on one such forum that I came across a discussion between riders about what handguns they preferred to carry during rides.

Yeah, you read that right: the loaded firearms they packed while riding, for shooting other road users.

I was shocked and horrified. I have no interest in being a bit player in some redneck moron’s Budweiser-fueled Mad Max gunfight fantasy. Guns have no place on the road, and absolutely no place in a cycling event.

I immediately fired off an email to the membership coordinator and the president of RUSA, our national organization, inquiring whether firearms were allowed on the rides they organized. They have ridiculously strict rules regarding rider safety, requiring helmets, front and rear lights, reflectors, reflective vests, sashes, and anklets, and so forth. But no, apparently that’s all safety theater, because they were—and still are—perfectly happy to hypocritically allow riders to carry loaded, concealed firearms, endangering the entire group and exposing RUSA to significant legal risk.

Having just mailed in my payment for my second year of RUSA membership, I put a stop payment on my check and informed them that I would not give any money to an organization that allowed my safety to be compromised, and that I wouldn’t be participating in any further RUSA events. After feeling that I’d found my community as an endurance rider, I was saddened to go into self-imposed exile to protest a policy I found outlandish and extremely dangerous.

Over the next decade, I participated in hundreds of centuries and 200k rides, but not a single RUSA-organized brevet. It’s unfortunate that I never felt safe enough to progress any further in my career as a randonneur. I’m sure I would have enjoyed it, and done numerous events, if they’d taken rider safety (if not their own legal exposure) seriously.

Only in the past couple years, since moving to Pittsburgh, have I chosen to meet up and ride with the local randonneuring group. It’s a tiny group—usually just four to six people—whose character I trust, and I’m hopeful that none of them are stupid enough to carry guns. But after all this time, I still will have nothing to do with RUSA unless and until they start taking the safety of their riders seriously.

Safe Cycling, Smart Cycling, Confident Cycling, Fundamental Cycling Skills: whatever you call it, educating riders on how to safely share the roads with other users is an important responsibility of advocacy organizations around the world.

I’ve never been through a formal bike safety course, but I’ve done plenty of reading, supplemented by plenty of self-education through tens of thousands of miles in the saddle.

In that time, I’ve gained one recurring insight which I haven’t seen anyone else specifically mention: the value of minimizing the number of interactions you have with motor vehicles.

We all know that out of every hundred drivers you encounter, a certain percentage of drivers are either distracted, impaired, or aggressive enough to constitute a meaningful danger to one’s safety. For sake of argument—and this is only a swag—let’s say that only 5 percent of drivers operate unsafely.

It’s a mathematical fact that our chances of being hit increase linearly with the number of drivers we encounter. At our 5 percent level, if we pass (or are passed by) 100 cars during a ride, we will have around 5 potentially unsafe encounters. But if we pass 400 cars, then we have to survive about 20 risky instances. On any ride, the more cars you pass, the more opportunities you have to be run over, QED.

But the converse is also true: if you only come across 20 cars, then maybe 1 of those drivers will be a danger to you. The fewer interactions you have with drivers, the fewer bad drivers you encounter.

That’s true no matter what the real rate of dangerous drivers is. Whether it’s much lower (1 in 500) or much higher (1 in 3), you’re *always* safer by reducing the number of interactions you have with cars. So that should be a goal for every cyclist.

“That’s nice, Ornoth, but how am I supposed to do that? I don’t control how many cars are on the roads…”

Riders aren’t idiots. Even complete newbies intuitively do a couple things that minimize problematic interactions with cars:

  • Avoid major arterial roads and highways with high-volume traffic. Ride on side and back streets that have less traffic.
  • Avoid narrow roads with no shoulders. This doesn’t really reduce the number of encounters you have, but it does produce less frustration and anxiety, and gives everyone a greater margin of error.

Beyond the obvious, here are some practical strategies I often use:

  • It sometimes makes sense, when you are about to start a narrow segment of road, to pull aside to allow any vehicles following behind you to pass. That way drivers aren’t frustrated and following you closely, looking for (potentially unsafe) opportunities to pass. You’ve defused a potentially dangerous interaction, plus you get the ethical satisfaction (and perhaps we all gain some political benefit) from your having been unexpectedly nice to someone.
  • Avoid going up long hills that will slow your pace. The slower you go, the more time you’ll take, and more vehicles will come up behind you wanting to pass (which make the previous points about narrow roads even more important on climbs). All else being equal, if you have a choice between a hilly and a flat route, you’ll have fewer interactions with motor vehicles on the latter.
  • When practical, avoid having to make left turns. Turning left requires moving across at least one parallel lane of traffic (the one you’re in, plus any to its left), then possibly crossing one or more perpendicular lanes (the cross-street). This isn’t a problem for right turns, because you’re not crossing lanes of traffic. Another alternative that can be safer is to make a two-stage left.
  • Don’t leapfrog traffic! It’s tempting to pass cars when they’re stopped at a traffic light, and buses at a bus stop. But most of the time those vehicles will want to pass you once they’ve started moving again. It’s a lot safer to insert yourself into the line of cars and wait for them to proceed, unless you’re damned sure you can sprint fast enough to stay ahead of the cars you pass!
  • Do your best to ride at the same speed as traffic. While this isn’t possible on high-speed roads, it is the optimal way to ride in urban traffic. In my experience, drivers will be less irate at a cyclist who maintains a comparable speed than one poking along at a walking pace.

I want to triple-emphasize that last point, because for my money, it is one of the most beneficial safety rules you can observe as a rider. By riding at the same speed as ambient traffic, you dramatically reduce (perhaps even to zero!) the number of vehicles that attempt to get past you. And as I said above: the fewer interactions you have with drivers, the fewer bad drivers you encounter, and the safer you will be on the road.

You could summarize all that in two golden rules: be considerate of other road users, and try to reduce the number of interactions you have with them. If you ride according to these principles, you will be exposed to fewer bad drivers, endure fewer opportunities for crashes, and reduce the frustration level of the dangerous drivers that you do encounter.

Last month, BikePGH—Pittsburgh’s main cycling advocacy group—conducted a survey of cyclists’ attitudes toward self-driving autonomous vehicles (AVs).

That action wasn’t arbitrary. Carnegie-Mellon University has developed their own AVs and tested them locally on the open roads. Ford’s AV unit employs a couple hundred people locally, mostly software engineers. And two years ago Uber deployed a score of robotic vehicles, using Pittsburgh as a development center and testbed for their own fleet. On any given trip through the city, you’re more likely to see an AV than not.

Bikers prefer AVs

With so many of them on the road, BikePGH wanted to know how cyclists felt about sharing the public streets with two-ton robots driving around at speed, and whether they, as an advocacy group, should oppose AV deployment or support it. So they conducted a survey.

You can read the survey results here. Although the survey questions were formulated with an obvious bias toward opposing autonomous vehicles, both BikePGH members and the general public responded that they overwhelmingly support the idea.

Naturally, I provided my own experiences. I’ve had many interactions with AVs while cycling; as I said, I’ve been seeing them all over town since moving here 18 months ago. All those interactions have been positive, with no issues whatsoever.

I suppose it’s human nature to mistrust automation. We find it difficult to believe that a machine can be put into a complex environment and make decisions that are better than—or even equal to—those made by a human.

The shibboleth that machines cannot handle the complexity of real-world situations has been addressed by recent advances in sensors, big data, and machine learning.

In fact, given proper programming and training, a robot will process more sensory data and consider more decisionmaking criteria than humanly possible in order to arrive at an optimal response, and do it in a fraction the time it would take you or I.

Does that mean I trust them enough to put my life in their hands? As with GPS navigation and routing, there are bound to be bugs and other challenges which will only be discovered with mass deployment. So far, all those AVs have had attentive “Safety Engineers” in the front seat, supervising their decisions and ready to intervene if anything goes amiss.

I do think it’s important that the government get involved to establish standard behavior and decisionmaking protocols and verify compliance with rigorous testing. I wouldn’t trust private enterprise to willingly bear the expense of testing and putting out a truly safe product. And someone needs to figure out liability concerns and how to insure them.

So I might not fully trust them, but I don’t fully trust any human operator on the road, either. While AVs might suffer from shortsighted programming, I know they won’t be intoxicated, fatigued, distracted, or aggressive. Taking those factors into account, I trust them more than I trust human operators, and I said as much in my survey response.

Amusingly, BikePGH chose to (anonymously) quote one of my comments in their survey’s summary. Here’s their writeup:

In general, people’s disdain for rude and aggressive human drivers overshadowed any negative perception, if not even welcomed autonomous vehicles. “Their novelty should not obscure the fact that they are neither distracted, intoxicated, nor aggressive, unlike the far more numerous human operators I encounter on the roads.” This commenter followed with “if [BikePGH] truly cares about cyclists’ safety, you would work to minimize the latter, rather than the former.”

That quote also got picked up as the closing kicker in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s article that covered the survey:

The general attitude toward self-driving cars in the survey could be summed up in one respondent’s comment: “Their novelty should not obscure the fact that they are neither distracted, intoxicated, nor aggressive, unlike the far more numerous human operators I encounter on the roads.”

Although I’m amused that I was quoted, I very much stand by those words. In my years of experience on the road, humans have conclusively proven themselves unable to operate motor vehicles without killing one another. Although autonomous vehicles might not be perfect, they’re unquestionably better than the self-important, homicidal monkeys I see on the roads every day.

Whenever I talk to non-cyclists about riding, two topics inevitably come up. The first is wonder that anyone in their right mind could handle being on the road with all those crazy drivers. The other is always—believe it or not—derision at cyclists because of the colorful outfits we wear.

I’ll relate one typical incident. Some years ago, a car overtook me as I approached a sharp right hand turn in the road. The car cut the apex of the turn right to the curb, as if I wasn’t even there, pinching me up onto the sidewalk. At the next light, I caught up to the car and alerted the driver—a woman who didn’t even acknowledge my presence—that she’d driven me off the road. Her passenger, a man, responded thus, “If you want to wear yellow, you should go to France”. This is how a lot of drivers think.

Now, never mind that concern over our sartorial choices is an act of high judgmentalism over something ludicrously trivial, since cyclists’ choice of clothing has absolutely no impact on anyone else’s well-being.

What really irks me is that these people are completely ignorant of the reason why cyclists wear bright colors. It’s not because we’re all gay or lacking in fashion sense or a bunch of counter-culture crazies. No, idiot, it’s so that drivers like you will actually see us.

Wearing muted earth tones—which are the only clothing that is socially acceptable to narrow-minded mainstream America—would make cyclists easier to overlook, and therefore will put them at more risk of being run down than a rider wearing garish colors.

Being highly visible is in fact the single most important factor that allows cyclists to be safe on the road with all those crazy drivers. Even following the rules of the road is kind of secondary to being seen. And it stupefies me that many drivers deride cyclists for doing something so simple and obvious to make themselves more visible and safer on the streets.

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