One great thing about our country is the way Americans of varied national and ethnic origins celebrate their heritages. From St. Patrick’s Day to Kwanzaa to Cinco de Mayo to Chinese New Year to, um, the St. Coleman’s Church Italian Festival, we have so many ways of honoring who we are.
As an American of Nordic stock, I celebrate my heritage too. I do this by seeking out a brave Viking death that will allow me to ascend to Valhalla. That’s why I ride a bicycle in South Florida.
OK, maybe that’s not exactly the reason. But there are days when riding through downtown feels at least as dangerous as rowing a longboat up the Seine to conquer the Franks. At least ol’ Ragnar and the boys were traveling in the biggest, fastest vehicle in their lane.
We take a look at that issue – cycling in Fort Lauderdale, not the Siege of Paris in the year 845 – in this month’s issue. Cyclists will be unsurprised to learn that Florida ranks abysmally when it comes to cyclist safety. Jess Swanson’s story also looks at the ways Fort Lauderdale tries to make life better for cyclists, pedestrians and drivers, and the forces that make those improvements difficult.
The story also gives voice to people who know what it’s like – some of the people who ride our roads every day. Their stories and concerns will sound familiar to anybody who gets around on two wheels. I know they sounded familiar to me.
I’d love cycling to be safer – and also, I’d be willing to pay for it. Our story breaks down one of the biggest obstacles to better cycling infrastructure, its cost. When we ask public bodies to do things on the cheap, we shouldn’t be surprised by cheap results.
I take this stuff personally because this year, I’ve started a different kind of bike ride. My daughter started middle school about a mile away from our house, a straight shot down a street that has a bike lane for part of it.
When we ride, something miraculous happens. The presence of a young person in a school uniform makes cars slow down. We don’t get honked at. Nobody slams out of our lane and then cuts us off as soon as they’re around us. Florida drivers are … nice?
Nevertheless, I try to impart the information my daughter will need. Keep your head on a swivel and check every side street for cars. Watch parallel-parked cars for suddenly opening doors. Don’t assume any car is going to do what you think it’s going to do. Basically, view every car you see as a giant, angry bull with chainsaws attached to its horns.
I’d love it if at some point I could make the same ride down a street with a cycle lane completely separated from car traffic. For now, I practice safety to the point of paranoia. Valhalla can wait.
