no such thing as a free right turn

Last night, a ghost bike was dedicated to Alice Swanson, the cyclist who was struck and killed by a garbage truck in DC earlier this week.

"Ghost Bikes are small and somber memorials for bicyclists who are killed or hit on the street. A bicycle is painted all white and locked to a street sign near the crash site, accompanied by a small plaque. They serve as reminders of the tragedy that took place on an otherwise anonymous street corner, and as quiet statements in support of cyclists' right to safe travel." (www.ghostbikes.org)

I knew Alice's face, from her internship at the Middle East Institute, but I'm sorry to say that I didn't interact with her enough to know her well. So I attended the dedication not so much as a former colleague, but more as a member of the DC cycling community.

As you'd expect, it was a sad, somber affair. Packed into a small space at the corner of Connecticut and Q, pedestrians and cyclists were literally spilling into the street. Since I began cycling regularly in DC about a year ago, I've been struck twice by cars, pressured into a curbside crash, and had many near misses. However, never have I felt the clash between car culture and bike culture so strongly as I did yesterday...

Moments after I arrived, less than ten feet from where Alice's ghost bike had been placed, a cyclist at full speed screeched to a stop to avoid an SUV making a right turn directly across his path.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" he screamed, his words piercing the somber silence of the crowd gathered on the sidewalk.

"I didn't see you" was the driver's reply.

I remained at the scene for about twenty minutes. It was nearly silent the entire time, but for the quiet TV interviews, and occasional moments of tears and laughter as her friends wrote bittersweet notes in chalk on the sidewalk, and as friends and strangers placed flowers in the ghost bike's basket.

Silent, of course, except for the angry honks of drivers mere meters away. It was 6:30 in the city, after all, and traffic must go on.

"I didn't see you." I heard those same words both times I was hit, and once more when I chased down a car that had crossed a marked path no more than a foot in front of me.

"I didn't see you." Blind spots, in most vehicles, are a myth. You are only blind if you don't look, and you should always look, especially when there is a bike path nearby.

"I didn't see you?" Check your blind spots is one of the first rules a new driver learns. Cyclists, in their own interests, need to be conscious of blind spots, but so do drivers... there is no such thing as a free right turn.

"I didn't see you" is the reason we have bike paths - big, fat white lines on the street that are supposed to remind you to look, to give you one last chance to turn your head and save a life.

You didn't see me? I think you mean "I didn't look."