Vicious Cycle II
The driving reign
Two days of weaving around traffic on slick, pockmarked roads in what could pass as showers in East A-- on a bicycle crippled by other rampant cyclists generates enough misdirected anger to write Dude, where's my country? twice over. It is almost impossible not to get wet in some way when cycling through even the lightest of drizzles (those wheezing rains in which you could leave a block of potassium out and come back from lunch to bring it back intact), even when wearing a jacket. And this often leads to much misery after being pelted in the face by stinging rain drops and by your wet clothes clinging doggedly to your body. I suppose one could, if sufficiently skilled, hoist an umbrella with one hand and control the bike with another, but, practical as it is, that only invites ridicule from drivers and other cyclists (also often those who wind down the windows and let bad music blare from their overmuscled stereos).
The weather, however, should be the least of concerns for the cyclist. There is instead the eternal conflict between drivers and cyclists, both of whom think they have the right of way and that the streets would be perfect if all their counterparts were to suddenly die in grisly and sickening accidents. It is like putting a lion, a tiger, a leopard and a piece of juicy steak into a barrel. Hence, there is always a certain tension on the very narrow roads, most of which had been built for horse carriages, and very small horse carriages at that.
There is a sense of lawlessness associated with most of the traffic, as cars routinely mount the kerb while turning and cyclists inch into the tiniest nooks between cars. But this arises from the general hubris that all road users have, that, in those famous words, there is a red carpet treatment for everyone on the road. Cyclists, then, have a lot more to look out for, because in a head to head between bicycles and cars, though no one wins, at least one survives. Ask any cyclist and he will relate to you a time when a bus (on lanes so narrow it scrapes the pavement in the best of cases) nearly lopped him off his bike when its back came wiggling around the corner.
However accidents are quite rare here, because everyone is more than ready to offer their two cents worth about your cycling/driving/walking. Everyone thinks they are the arbiter of cycling/driving proficiency and it is hard not to make a journey without seeing someone barking out a piece of his mind to other people. This is a vigilante system of traffic policing, because the police force is too understaffed to take that under their jurisdiction (hence seeing a constable prosecute a traffic offence is as rare as seeing a constable being armed. Or, if you like, as rare as finding a "natural" cycle parking space.) Comments range from the helpful ("you shouldn't stop right in front unless you're jumping the lights") to the aggravated ("come on…COME ON FUCK YOU!") to the cryptic ("it's a one way street you know "(on a two-way)) but each one is totally useless since everyone will just continue in their own way in the everyday quagmire of traffic until one day, when all their paths cross catastrophically leading to an apocalyptic annihilation of everyone that will finally leave pedestrians as the rightful owners of the road.
This is why many cyclists are angry. They know they can't win over motorists any day, but they gloat over the greater traffic freedom they have (weaving through congestion; motorists hate seeing that). But they are caught between pedestrians and motorists in an automotive limbo, with too many other cyclists, vying for the same shrinking space, vulnerable to cars and each other, every time some place to go in a rush to. As it is with anything with so many members and proponents, and something with so many constraints and pressures, there inevitably arises a massive culture around.
