I left this morning around 7:00. I could have been seriously injured for the first time around 7:06. I was biking south on Rockwell, and I admit, in my mind I was lamenting the loss of my favorite bicycling scarf. I know I wore it home yesterday, but I couldn’t find it this morning, and I was in a rush to get out the door. It’s perfect for biking because it is wool and it’s short enough just to wrap around once and cover my neck but not make my whole body too hot and bulky. I knit it in only about 30 minutes because it’s so short and the yarn was so thick.
The yarn was from Renegade Handmade. I don’t think they carry it any more. All I remember was there were only about 30 yards in the skein and it was called Dulce.
And I think it was probably about $30. Anyway, I know the scarf is somewhere at home, most likely in the closet which is where I found it the last time I lost it. So that’s what I was thinking about when I was heading south on Rockwell about to cross Lawrence. Usually I am keenly aware of the cars going my direction, coming toward me, parked to the right of me in case they swing their doors open, and the potholes in the road. But with my mind on my scarf, I didn’t see the black car as quickly as I would have liked.
When I was half way across Lawrence, a black car stopped at the red light facing east on Lawrence decided to make a right on Rockwell, turning him south (just like me) and in the right lane (just like me). Unfortunately two people can’t occupy the same place at the same time. So I hit my brakes, avoiding the collision. The driver still didn’t notice me, though I tailed him the rest of the way on Rockwell, adjusting my blinking light to make sure it hit his rearview mirror. His 90 year old passenger in the back didn’t notice me either. I have a good idea about her age, because when he turned I was close enough to the back passenger window to count her wrinkles, or to spit on his car, but I did neither. I just continued on my way to work, my heart now pumping blood more effectively. I wonder what he was thinking about. I doubt it was a scarf.
I don’t remember the details of the other times I could have been seriously injured today. I was lucky enough to really only have one super close call (above), one minor close call (below), and several “Watch it!”s.
So after being at work for 9 and a half hours, I left. (I still have work to do this weekend, but that comes with being a teacher). Three minutes later comes my next chance to get seriously injured. Diversey has a bike lane. It is for me and people on the same type of vehicle as I am on. It is not for motorized vehicles. It is not a turn lane. It is not a great place to park. It is not a fast lane to get around cars in front of you. But as I’m coming up to a stop sign, the truck with me in its blind spot decides he will turn right at the stop sign, and now is a good time to merge into the bike lane to get ready for the turn.
I love riding my bike. I love that over half of my commute is on bike-laned streets. I love that it was still nearly 60 degrees now in early November. What I don’t love is drivers who can’t see bicycles. I stay doubly vigilant paying attention to much more than drivers need to pay attention to, and still many drivers act annoyed with me either obviously or subtly. I wish that bicycling wasn’t seen as a threat to drivers and a threat to America. I wish it was as common here as it is in other countries. I wish it was accepted as a normal means of transportation. It is frustrating to get home in the evenings and recount with my husband the number of near-misses and almost-dieds we had that day. That said, I still feel safe on my bike, but only because I stay so fully aware of my surroundings. And wear my helmet. So I end with a PSA: please watch for bikes and share the road.