Possibly the most difficult part of cycling in traffic is navigating intersections.
In jurisdictions that don't have some form of the "Idaho stop," cyclists are expected to follow the traffic signals as either vehicles or pedestrians. One problem with that is that a cyclist proceeding straight through an intersection is in danger of getting hit by turning vehicles--especially right-turning trucks and buses, as their drivers often do not see cyclists who are far to the right of them. Another problem is that in very large intersections, it is all but impossible to turn left without running into danger from oncoming traffic.
Of course, the "Idaho stop" is meant to remedy the first problem: Treating a red light as a "stop" sign or a "stop" sign as a "yield" sign (which is what the Idaho stop is, in essence) allows the cyclist to get out ahead of drivers who are making right turns. As for the second problem, a new solution is being tried out in Pittsburgh.
In the city's Oakland neighborhood, boxes--"bays"--are being carved out in intersections. Cyclists proceed to them and wait for their signal--which is activated by radar designed to detect their presence--before continuing through the intersection.
I, for one, will be very interested to see how this idea works out. In principle, it sounds good, though I must admit that I'm skeptical about a "bay" in the middle of an intersection that is separated from traffic only by lines of paint.
I used to know somebody who said she had "tried riding a bike" a number of times. The reason she never stuck with it, she said, is that she could "only ride straight ahead." The reason, she said, is that she "never learned how to turn".
This guy seems to have the same problem:
Sometimes I wonder whether my subconscious is steering me into wrong turns.
Freud, of course, would argue that it doesn't. If you'd planned on going one way but finding yourself going another, deep down, you really wanted it.
Maybe he was right, although I still don't understand why I woke up next to at least a couple of the people I've woken up next to.
OK, this is a bike blog. And my rambling ultimately has to do with the ride I took today--and one I took last week.
I rode to Connecticut again today. I took a route that, for much of the way, follows the East Coast Greenway--I've been finding more and more of it--and takes me up a few climbs and along a ridge I discovered by making other "wrong turns".
On the way back, though, I managed to--among other things--ride in a circle of about 15km, unintentionally. I didn't mind: It took me by a couple of rocky streams of the kind you expect to see in New England postcards. Near those streams were some real, live, old-time farm houses and barns. I guess I should not have been surprised: I was in horse country.
I have ridden horses only a couple of times in my life. Given the chance, I would ride one again. In the meantime, I am happy to see them. They give me hope for the human race. Why? Well, only a century ago--even less in some places--they were beasts of burden. In addition to carrying humans on their backs, horses pulled various kinds of farm implements as well as carts on rough roads and barges that plied canals. Today, they do almost none of those things. But some people--some of whom don't ride--have seen fit to keep them, whether or not they serve any useful purpose.
They are beautiful, intelligent creatures who generally treat people well, whether or not people are doing the same for them. Humans can do well to learn from them.
The bicycle, of course, was one of the first things to take away some of the work horses once did. People could go faster and further on two wheels. Plus, even in postage-stamp-sized New York apartments, it's easier to store a bike--and cheaper to feed one--than a horse.
Perhaps we should thank horses for doing their work as well, and for as long, as they did--and for continuing to do it on demand.
Anyway, that loop through the horse farms and other bucolic scenes consisted of a couple of winding roads, one of which is called Round Mountain Road. That name should have told me something!
I guess I subconsciously took those "wrong turns" because I really, deep down, wanted to see something besides downtown Greenwich and Stamford, or even the coast of Long Island Sound.
Of course, when I am on vacation, I am always taking wrong turns. As an example, on a day in Paris, I might decide I want to visit a particular museum or to take a ride to some particular site. But I almost invariably end up following some street or alley or canal or another I hadn't planned on seeing. Likewise, when I was in the provinces of France or Italy, I might decide that the destination of my day's ride would be some town or site. But of course, I almost never took the "straight-arrow" route.
So why does my subconscious steer me along routes the GPS would never dream of? Well, I guess I am, if nothing else, inquisitive. I want to see more and know more. If I am going to spend time in a place, I want to become as familiar with it as I can. My wanderings make me feel as if I've had a more intimate experience of the place. For example, I have been to the Picasso Museum several times and can get to it pretty easily. However, my experience of it seems more complete when I ride through the surrounding area--Le Marais--and, perhaps, find a street or alley I'd never before seen, or hadn't seen in a long time.
Believe it or not, even in the cities and towns and rural areas I know relatively well, it's still not difficult to find and interesting, and even new experience--simply by making a "wrong" turn.
Note: I didn't take any photos today. Sorry! I guess I just got so immersed in my ride that I didn't think of taking pictures.
