Let's Hope This "Twist" Isn't Just The Latest Dance Craze

Two and a half years ago, I was "doored" into a potentially-fatal spill.  The reason I survived with a gash that required thirty stitches and torn muscles and ligaments is that traffic stopped just behind me, and a bystander took it upon himself to get water and bandages and to call the police and ambulance.

The driver, to her credit, checked to see whether I was OK and offered help. (Between her driver's and my health insurance, thankfully, it cost me very little.)  And, a few months later, I was nearly doored again on a Sunday afternoon as I pedaled along Metropolitan Avenue in Middle Village--while wearing a high-visibility jacket.  I turned back to yell at the driver, who stated the obvious:  "I wasn't paying attention."  

Other drivers, though, aren't so willing to own up to what they've done.  Even if they open the door as you're next to it, they somehow think it's your responsibility to keep them from dooring you.

Richard Silvester falls somewhere between these two categories of drivers.  Last July, the UK resident had been eating a sausage roll in his car when he opened his door to shake off crumbs.  (I have been the recipient of such morsels, and of showers from motorist dumping their half-finished cups of coffee and bottles of soda.)  Unfortunately for Benjamin Dearman-Baker, Silvester's effort at tidiness sent him tumbling from his bike--which he'd been riding at 20MPH--to the pavement.  

Although endangering or injuring someone by opening a car door is a misdemeanor offense in the UK, it's still a more serious charge than in most US jurisdictions.  Rarer still is the motorist, like Silvester,  actually prosecuted for it.

Silvester claimed to have "looked" before opening his door, but admitted he didn't check the blind spots.  He might have seen Dearman-Baker in one of them had he used the "Dutch Reach," which is now mandatory in the UK and other countries--and versions of it may soon be mandated in New York and other places in America.

The "Dutch Reach," invented in a country that has about the same ratio of bicycles to people as the US has guns to people, is simple:  The driver uses their "far hand" to open the door.  In the UK, where drivers travel on the right side of the road, it is their left hand.  In most other countries, a driver would open their portals right-handed.  Bending in such a way forces drivers to look in those spots immediately behind them, which is where they, more often than not, "don't see" cyclists.

During the past few years, Massachusetts and Illinois have made the "Dutch Reach" part of their drivers' curriculum.  In New York City, where I live, the Department of Transportation is trying to promote it among taxi and service-vehicle drivers as the "New York Twist."

It sounds like a dance.  Let's hope it catches on and it isn't just a temporary "craze," like an earlier "twist."

It’s easy to keep #BikeNYC safe! Do the New York Twist: before exiting a vehicle, twist your opposite arm to open the door, then turn your head behind you to watch for oncoming bikers. You twist one way to put on your seat belt, now twist another to save lives. #VisionZero pic.twitter.com/8tqllsp9P9

— NYC DOT (@NYC_DOT) April 10, 2023

Oh, and for his part, Richard Silvester has been ordered to pay the costs that result from hitting Benjamin Dearman-Baker when he opened his door to shake off the crumbs from his sausage roll.

A Journey Blossoms

 What would my younger self have thought?

My younger self was not only, well, younger, but also stronger, skinnier and perhaps sillier: Even after I’d given up on racing, I prided myself on riding like a racer.  Some of that may have had to do with living as male and riding, if not solo, then mostly in the company of male riders who were racers, ex-racers or wannabes.

Now I’m going to make a confession: While I sometimes rode just as hard and fast during my solo rides, on other solo rides—and only on solo rides, I’d stop to look at buildings, trees or flowers.

Which is what I’ve been doing lately.  In this part of the world, we are entering the peak of cherry blossom season and I’m becoming a blossom rider—or a cherry chaser?

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that few things make me happier, if for a moment, than those pink blooms.  (Lilacs, which should be showing up soon, are another.) 

It’s not just their prettiness that moves me.  I must say that I never understood haiku or Japanese art (or why it so inspired Monet and other Impressionist artists) until I paid attention to cherry blossoms.

You see, haiku isn’t just about the syllable count and Japanese painting isn’t only a style.  Both are about experiencing the beauty and intensity of something in a moment but appreciating that moment’s ephemerality. And that, I believe, is the reason why there’s so much respect for elders and ancestors in Japanese culture.

So…while my recent rides have been sensual and aesthetic experiences—which my younger self would have secretly embraced—they have also been lessons which, possibly, my younger self could not’ve understood.

A Pub In His Path

When I was young and thought myself invincible, I would depart for a ride with a full water bottle (or CamelBack, in my mountain biking days) and return home with--a full water bottle.  And, no, I hadn't refilled it along the way.  Sometimes people, including "tough guy" riding partners, either wondered how I didn't, or implored me to, take at least a few sips.  In those days, I just didn't get thirsty very often and didn't realize that even when I wasn't, my body still needed water.

Once, on a ride in Pennsylvania, one of those riding buddies quipped, "This road could be blocked by a fountain and you wouldn't take a drink!"

Perhaps that was true.  But what if the bike lane were blocked by a cafe--or a pub?

A few months into the pandemic, New York City allowed restaurant and bar owners to construct kiosks outside their establishments in order to limit crowding inside.  Some of those kiosks block bike lanes which, ironically, were built not long before the kiosks.  Sometimes I wonder whether those places are trying to drum up business with folks like me--or whether their owners and patrons simply hate us.

The bike lanes in question were all carved out of city streets.  There are a few off-road lanes in the city's parks and other areas.  A few offer snack, drink and lunch stands along the way but none, to my knowledge, feature a full-on restaurant, cafe, bar--or pub.  On the other hand, in at least one part of England, the off-road bike lanes aren't immune to encroachment by eating and drinking establishments. 

Roadcc reader "IanMK" encountered this during his Easter Sunday ride in Buckinghamshire.  He grumbled but, in the end, he stopped for a pint.  I mean, what else could he do, right?