There should be a word to describe being so traumatized by something that didn’t happen that you’re sick to your stomach. That was me last week, standing beside my car wondering if I was going to throw up.
Everyone was fine. Nothing had gone wrong. The sun shone brightly. The sky was clear. It was a beautiful day, but so horrifying was the picture of what might have been, so awful and painful and irreversible and final that it seemed certain the contents of my stomach would come up.
The other actors in this drama were a father on a bicycle with a toddler perched behind him in a bike seat. It played out on a residential city street around 8:30 a.m. Cars were parked on both sides of the street, reducing it to one lane. As I entered, a car approached in the opposite direction. I pulled over to the side near a Starbucks to allow the other driver to pass. I checked my mirror, which was clear.
Just as the other car was passing, the dad with a toddler shot the gap between us at a high speed. It was a daredevil move. The biker had accelerated. He had to, you can’t “shoot the gap” going slow. Many drivers, having checked their mirrors seconds earlier, would have merged into the lane as he was going past. If I had, the cyclist and his toddler would have been splattered on the pavement.
It’s perfectly legal for a cyclist to pass a car. It’s fine for a cyclist to occupy an entire lane, in fact, it’s their legal right and it is a good way to ensure a cyclist’s safety. This story has nothing to do with blaming cyclists for all society’s woes. I’m not implying that cyclists “have it coming.” This is a story about the fact that it is suicidal for any vehicle (bicycle, car, moped, unicycle) to shoot the gap between two other vehicles on a single lane.
There was no collision because I had been extremely careful. You do not move your vehicle from a stop into traffic without confirming that the lane is clear. It doesn’t matter if your mirror was clear two seconds ago. Never press the pedal unless you know the road is clear. Most people follow this rule, but some may slip up on occasion. This is not a statement on morality or culpability. It’s a statement of fact.
“Did that really happen?” asked my wife, who was in the passenger seat. “A dad on a bike with a kid in the back shooting the gap?” In disbelief, she mentioned wanting to call the kid’s mom.
We continued, made a left and were again on a street with parking on both sides. There was a single lane available. A car was approaching from the opposite direction and there was a space to my right, so I began to pull aside to let the car proceed. I checked my mirror. It was clear. The approaching vehicle paused and signalled that they were allowing me to pass. I paused, still reeling from the previous incident. Then the same father and toddler sped past – once again shooting the gap between two cars, either of which could have proceeded at any moment. He had accelerated through a left turn, blowing through a stop sign, and then sped up. It was quite clear that there was only one lane and that two other vehicles were negotiating it. That didn’t deter him.
Fate brought us to the same stop sign. Miraculously, he stopped. I noticed his son was holding a cup of blueberries. I wasn’t going to yell at a guy in front of his kid. Besides, I wasn’t angry, I was scared but I had to say something.
“You shouldn’t pass like that on the left,” I said. “I waited. I stopped. I saw you but not everybody will.”
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t surprised. He knew what he’d done.
“All I’m saying is you shouldn’t do it. You did it twice.”
“The first time I thought you were going into Starbucks.”
“Look, all I’m saying is I saw you, I looked for you, but not everybody will. If I had moved there would have been an accident. You shouldn’t do it.”
He said sorry again and moved on.
I drove another fifty feet, parked and got out of my car and stood wondering if I was going to have the opportunity to see what oatmeal tastes like coming up. My wife was in a less severe state, but still shaken. She kept saying how incredible it was he had made such a dangerous move twice in quick succession.
The only reason there wasn’t a three-year-old with its head banged against the asphalt and his bowl of blueberries scattered among his blood was the fact that I had practiced extreme vigilance. It would have been a terrifying, utterly irreversible catastrophe and it would have happened because a dad decided to shoot the gap (twice) so he could keep making good time with his kid on the back of his bike.
Here’s what I should have told that father:
“Don’t write me into your tragedy. If you want to bike like a maniac and put yourself in jeopardy, leave your toddler at home. I know it’s nice to feel the wind in your hair and manoeuvre at speed through residential streets, but your faith in the driving skills of others is not warranted. The only reason you and your kid were not in a terrible accident is that, even though you broke countless rules, I did everything right. I take no pride in this fact. It almost never happens. I should not care about the safety of the kid on the back of your bike more than you do. Also, I never block traffic to get coffee, but if I ever do, it won’t be to go into a Starbucks.”
Hindsight, I suppose.
Andrew Clark