13 minute read
Road-rage replies
Richard Betts’ article, describing three shocking cases of road rage directed against cyclists (Arrivée 152), touched a nerve with our readers, many of whom report similarly unpleasant incidents. Here is a selection of the messages received…
/ ALAMY STOCK PHOTO IMAGES © ROBIN MAYES 2
Advertisement
Where’s the horse sense?
Sir, I found the Richard Betts article (Arrivée issue 152) very interesting as I too have had many a close shave with the motorist (of which I am one also). I’m very new to Audaxing and yet to do my first official ride but I’d consider myself an experienced cyclist – riding with the CTC since I was 10, commuting to work, time-trialling and road-racing in addition to all the miles training in chain gangs and solo.
I’m always astonished how drivers whizz past me at close range, only to slow down to a walking pace to pass a horse and rider! I’d love to know the psychology behind that fact.
I’ve found over the years, after being over the bonnet of a car and physically pushed off the road into a hedge by a car (twice) that it’s best to keep one’s own counsel when riding solo.
However, when riding in a group the situation tends to be very different – again, I do try to ride in a group nowadays as I’m 55 but I do seek out the quieter lanes when on my own. What is it that horse riders command that we don’t?
Alan Tilt
Bollards to them
Sir, The idea of a 100 per cent separate cycle network would be enormously difficult, but there is a much cheaper alternative which would massively improve road safety, not only for cyclists but also pedestrians, horse riders, mobility scooters, and indeed drivers themselves – traffic calming.
Every interaction between a driver and a cyclist is a throw of the dice. So the idea is to minimise those interactions. How traffic calming works is using bollards and barriers at strategic points on minor roads so that destinations are still accessible from the main road network, but drivers aren’t able to zoom through the less suitable minor roads.
This approach would be highly cost-effective as it only requires installation of a handful of barriers at strategic junctions. The effect means that drivers are routed on to the A and B road network which is far safer for everyone than minor roads.
This exact process was due to be trialled in North Somerset as a “Quiet Lanes” scheme but regrettably the council didn’t go through with it.
Essentially these are super-sized “low traffic neighbourhoods. Motor traffic can come in and out of a locality – but can’t short cut through it.
This way essential journeys can still be made using a motor vehicle but the interactions between cyclists (and all other non-motor traffic) and drivers is substantially reduced. And motorists would be directed on to roads which are designed for their safety without the narrowness and blind bends of country lanes.
Calum Rogers
The Lycra theory
Sir, I’ve encountered a lot of aggressive behaviour from drivers, even though I prefer to go about my rides without being an inconvenience, and share the space, and am definitely not a militant cyclist.
Though not intentional, I’ve been knocked down twice while riding. Both incidents involved a lack of attention from drivers, which I can sort of forgive. My injuries healed and the wrecked bikes were replaced at no cost to me.
What I struggle to forgive is the relentless abuse and “Russian Roulette” style of driving, intended intimidate you on a bike. I ’ve been hit with wing mirrors on close passes, and had a guy mount the pavement to try to knock me down after a heated exchange. I’d had the cheek to
make a gesture as he passed at 60mph in a 30 limit with six inches room.
I’ve had van drivers pushing me into the side of the road by closing the gap, shouting: “I’m putting you in the ******* gutter where you belong!” I can honestly say if I’d not been fully focused there are several intentional actions that could have claimed my life.
Although I’ve only been knocked down twice by lack of attention, I did have a car push me on to the bonnet, then drive over my foot – because I didn’t pull out of a junction quickly enough on a wet winter’s night. The four occupants got out of car to threaten me, and when I reported to nearest police station the car was on false plates!
I’ve always been a polite cyclist, single up when required, hold a tight and steady line and wave cars past on single-track or at road works. Yet we share the roads with a reasonably large number of drivers who are not actually responsible enough to own a vehicle – they don’t have the skill or temperament for it.
The chances of these people being caught are slim and the sentences light. This enables such behaviour to become mainstream. I believe that in this fastpaced world people think they are busier than they really are, certainly not allowing time to travel to where they’re going.
This perception of importance on the road leads to the belief that a cyclist is nothing more than an inconvenience. My theory is the experienced rider in full Lycra is more of a target – drivers associating us with leisure which is obviously far less important than their needs on the road. Drivers dehumanise us – it’s just a cyclist, not a dad, mum, brother or sister! I’ve ridden a few times in jeans and t-shirt, got much less hassle, so maybe we are just targeted?
The funny thing is, I drive almost as many miles as I ride and in 25 years cannot recall a cyclist being a major issue on my car journey. It’s just an attitude, part of some people’s DNA to cause trouble and hate others. The cure? Everyone learning to drive should have to ride at least an hour to experience what it feels like, maybe it could sober a few drivers up.
Stephen Malaney
Stephen Malaney
Culprits in the frame
Sir, I’ve just read the article on aggression from drivers (Arrivée issue 152). During early lockdown my husband and I were out getting our recommended dose of exercise. The roads were wonderfully quiet so we were tootling along, side by side on an empty straight and reasonably wide road. Out of the blue, a large transit type van came up very close behind us revved his engine then passed much too close, the driver screaming invective at us.
The van had a company name and phone number on it so we pulled over and rang them to complain about their driver’s behaviour. As a consequence the driver was reprimanded and we received a personal apology from one of their senior managers.
The incident prompted us to get a couple of bike cams. Thanks to these we now have video and photographic evidence. One case involved a horrendously close pass with oncoming traffic. We sent evidence to the company concerned. The driver was sacked as his manager was a cyclist himself and said he wasn’t having his company’s name dragged down by idiots like him.
Contrarily, we’ve sent three videoevidenced complaints to Lancashire Police – we have heard nothing back on any of these. Say no more. There is a huge mindset shift required to get this changed.
Laura Pringle
Laws must be enforced
Sir, I was interested to read the recent article in Arrivée (issue 152) regarding acts of aggression towards cyclists. This isn’t a new story. I too have been subject to a number of “attacks” over the years, ranging in severity, but I was particularly interested to hear that several people had effectively given up riding on the road. That is also the case with me.
I thought I was just being overly sensitive or cautious, but I now realise others are also giving up. My primary concern when cycling is not the weather, distance or fatigue – it’s aggression from motorists.
My cycling in is now done almost entirely off-road, except for actually getting to the places where I can do that. I simply don’t enjoy road cycling anymore, and that’s only because of the outright hostility that’s allowed to prevail in this country.
I’m not an inexperienced cyclist. I’ve ridden in many countries on the continent and in North America but have never had to deal with anything like the level of anger that I see from the average British motorist. I should say that I have been a member of the Institute of Advanced Motorists for over 30 years and have advanced test passes in driving and motorcycling.
I’m also a motorcycle marshal for British Cycling (NEG), so have experience from both perspectives. Even at fullymarshalled road race events, we almost always see some act of deliberately dangerous driving or verbal hostility aimed at static marshals, convoy members or the riders themselves.
Levels of traffic, little or no cycling infrastructure, lack of ability by the average motorist, and little or no enforcement of
Simon Goodwin
traffic laws have all contributed to my feeling that the days of enjoyable cycling on the road may have come to an end in the UK and I’m very sad about that.
My view is that traffic violations and aggression towards other road users need to be treated with an iron fist. A driving licence is a privilege, not a right, and if you venture out on the road in any vehicle, that fact must be at the forefront of your mind, otherwise the privilege can be taken away, permanently.
We’re at a point where only the most draconian law enforcement measures will redress the situation and I fully support any authority that is prepared to do that.
Simon Goodwin
Scary confrontation
Sir, After reading the article regarding intimidation against cyclists by motorists I feel that I should mention a particularly nasty incident I experienced.
The day was wet but I decided to do my usual 100 miler up over the Cotswolds, through Gloucester down through the Forest of Dean then back to Wiltshire via the Severn Bridge.
Approaching Brockthorpe a passing motorist in a Volvo SUV hit my arm at 40 mph with his wing mirror. He stopped and started raging about cyclists, using four-letter profanities. I told him that motorists should try to give cyclists 1.5 metres when passing. He was having none of this, so I moved on to avoid further confrontation.
As I passed him on the inside, because he was in the middle of the road, the car rammed me, hitting my leg and knocking me into the verge. I picked myself up, noting a bruise developing on my calf as he drove off.
I switched on my helmet cam as I suspected he’d be waiting for me around the corner in a layby. I was right. He was out of his car and stopped me, raging on about his mirror. I got off my bike, and he tried to get the bike off me as I’d held it between us for some protection. I said that I was filming, and this infuriated him even more – and he punched me in the face. There were witnesses gathering but nobody moved to help.
He then picked up a four foot fencing stake and swung it at me. I stepped back, and he missed me by inches. Another motorist stopped and tried to calm the guy down, and in the meantime someone called the police. Once the motorist became aware of this he was off like a shot. I was relieved. He’d said he wanted to put me in hospital so he said.
I was 56 at the time, while he looked to be in his early thirties. Although I’m fit he would probably have overpowered me.
The police turned up and I gave a statement that took two hours – in the rain. I also gave them the SD card from my camera. The Volvo driver was hard to track down as it was not his vehicle, but eventually the police found him. He went to court and received an 18 month suspended sentence – and I would hope he’s learned a lesson.
I cycle 30 miles every day during my commute to work and at times I’ve thought about giving up road cycling due to frequent incidents with motorists. You can accept accidental incidents but deliberate attempts to injure cyclists should be dealt with firmly by means of education, hefty fines or in extreme cases imprisonment.
One of the things that has affected me since the incident is a lack of confidence in dealing with situations of this nature. I’m more likely to just get back on the bike and let it go. It’s very scary for cyclists to have to deal with this.
Alistair Willis
Corsican courtesy
Sir, Richard Betts’ article (Arrivée issue 152), led me to reflect on some experiences I had when living in England, though they are somewhat lighter than those that Richard recounts.
Many of you will be familiar with the things which used to be shouted out as you cycled by: “Your back wheel’s going round”, for instance – nice to know at the end of a hard ride.
Here in Corsica the attitude to cyclists is normally much better. In France, cycling generally has a different status to that in the UK, though, as Adrian Wikeley (Tea for one – issue 152, page 23) suggests, it’s always better to hide for a snooze to avoid the unwanted attentions of well-meaning drivers. Here in Corsica the friendliness is even greater. I’ve been asked if I’m OK when I’ve merely stopped for a wee, or to adjust my clothing.
Passing motorists often slow down and give me the thumbs up or shout “Bon Courage”. This is sometimes a bit embarrassing when I’m just out for a bit of a potter, though my wife says it’s because I look so old and vulnerable.
The way people drive in Corsica can be a bit disconcerting if you’re not used to it. Even when I’m driving at the legal speed limit, there will be cars queuing behind to overtake, all bumper to bumper. This is not aggression, just the normal driving style.
Another driving habit is pulling out at junctions at the last minute, expecting oncoming vehicles to slow down. This happened to me on the bike recently and the motorist, realising it was bit close, actually wound down his window to apologise. I smiled, waved and said “pas de problème”. If you adopt this attitude after an incident, realising that we’re all only human, it leaves you feeling much happier than if you let it wind you up.
Just to finish with a couple of amusing incidents: I was riding up a steep climb behind an old lady walking in the road. She hadn’t heard me, so I rang my bell. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and said: “Bon courage, quand même”. The “quand même” bit meant “even though” – even though I’d just frightened her to death. On another occasion a rather portly cyclist came gliding past me. Blimey, I thought, I must be really unfit until I noticed the electric motor in his back wheel just as he announced: “Je triche, moi!” (I’m cheating, me!).
