Crossing The Line Into A Collision

Once again, Florida leads the nation in bicycle deaths and injuries, overall and per capita.  And it's not even close:  the next-worst state--Louisiana--has about half of Florida's numbers and rates.

Having cycled in the Sunshine State, I could see why there the body count is so high.  Many thoroughfares are "stroads:"  multi-lane streets, avenues or boulevards that cut a straight line from Point A to Point B.  Such an arrangement seems to bring out the inner Dale Earnhardt in drivers. Also, those "stroads" are not only the most direct routes from one place to another:  They're often the only routes.  Worse yet, they often don't have "service" or emergency lanes or even sidewalks, let alone bike lanes.

The arrangements I've described can be especially difficult to acclimate to if you come from a place that isn't as auto- and driver-centric as Florida.   Just as my teachers and professors didn't teach me about female, queer or Black writers because they weren't taught them themselves, I think many drivers have the idea that the road belongs to them and nothing should be in their way because, well, they were inculcated with such a notion at a young age--and it was reinforced by road an highway engineering that prioritized moving motor vehicles as quickly and efficiently as possible from one point to another.

The conditions I've described had at least something to do with one of the more horrific car-bike crashes I've heard  of. Fortunately, it didn't add to Florida's death toll, though at least one of the cyclists involved has "incapacitating" injuries.

Notice that I said "at least."  The driver involved in this confrontation was piloting her Kia SUV south in the southbound lane of North Ocean Boulevard Gulf Stream, a Palm Beach County community.  A group of eight cyclists was riding northbound, in the northbound lane.

For some as-yet-unexplained reason, the 77-year-old driver crossed the center line dividing the two lanes.  The front of her vehicle met--with great force--the front of a 43-year-old cyclist and struck the others who were riding with him.

Perhaps not surprisingly, he's the one with the "incapacitating" injury.  Three other cyclsts had "serious" injuries; they, the others and the driver were brought to the hospital's trauma unit. 

I hope everyone--yes, including the driver--recovers and she explains, or someone figures out, why she veered across that road.  And I hope--though, I realize, this is a very long hope, especially with Ron De Santis in the governor's mansion--that Florida makes itself safer for cyclists, many of whom are tourists or, like me, were visiting family members.

On The Wire

The bicycle has been called the "grandparent of the airplane."

OK, the original phrase is "grandfather of the airplane."  But in this day and age, no one--especially I--can be sexist.

Anyway, the saying most likely came about because some of the bicycle's technological innovations--including pneumatic tires--made aircraft possible.  Also, many of aviation's early pioneers--including the Wright Brothers themselves--started out as bicycle mechanics, designers, racers or manufacturers.

Perhaps that was the reason why, I believe, the subconscious of the cycling world, as it were, has always harbored the dream of a flying bicycle--which has been done--and of riding a bicycle through the air.

About the latter:  If you go to Arizona Science Center, you can do just that.  But you won't be suspended in the ether.  Rather, if you dare, you can ride a bicycle on a wire suspended across a 15-foot span.

Since it's in the Science Center, you don't run any risk of landing on cactus if you fall.  Still, even if you are a novice, falling could be a blow to your psyche, if not your body.  I imagine, however, that even an experienced cyclist (like yours truly) would feel a sense of pride over completing such a ride, however brief it may be.

After that, the only thing better might be cycling in a pink cloud.

 

Can You Beat These Guys?

How fast can you change a flat?