Yesterday I was riding east on the Sellwood bridge when a driver in a pickup truck passed me, honking his horn and flipping me off. It is true that the Sellwood bridge is quite narrow and a cyclist taking up part of the eastbound lane really slows down the traffic. It is also true that from the south side of the bridge it's hard to get to the north sidewalk, which is where cyclists usually ride - and it's also true that the sidewalk is really narrow, and even without other bikes and pedestrians present, it's scary and dangerous. Oregon law allows me to ride in the lane of traffic, and I was staying as far to the right as I could, maintaining what speed I could, giving the traffic behind me as much space as possible without endangering myself.
What's also true (and kind of funny) is that the pickup driver who flipped me off was traveling westbound, going in the opposite direction. I wasn't inconveniencing him at all, he was just pissed off that I was there.
The driver reminded me of the self I was for many years: the Angry Man in traffic. Years ago, I'd look for reasons to get mad at drivers. From across an intersection I'd let someone have it for something that had nothing to do with me. I had a hair-trigger when it came to all manner of traffic situations, from mere inconveniences to downright dangerous situations. My stock response was at the top of my lungs.
Most of the cyclists I knew back then were angry; it was all too common to be ignored, deliberately inconvenienced or even targeted by drivers. It often felt like they weren't so much sharing the road as wiping it up with us. Perhaps it was having lived for fewer years, perhaps it was simply earlier days of bikes in traffic, but the outrage and defiance seemed right at the time. We were out there fending for ourselves.
Now, on the whole, Portland is a pretty amazing city to bicycle in. There are bike paths as far as the eye can see, special traffic lights, exclusive trails, etc., and amenities keep getting better. The community as a whole (perhaps excepting some pickup drivers) accepts the existence of cyclists on the road and their right to be there. It's far more common now for drivers to be courteous to me (sometimes obsequiously so) than it is to flip me off. I can no longer claim to be out there fending for myself.
But old habits can die hard. My inner Angry Man is still there. When I encounter tricky traffic situations, I feel myself ready to bellow as loudly as ever. The last times I actually did it, I felt pretty ridiculous afterward. These days, most of a whole city has my back. Cycling has even been acknowledged as a moral choice for getting around. I mean, when it comes to traffic, how much more credible can I get? I'm longer fighting against the establishment, I'm a part of it. To retain credibility, I have a role to play. In the angry old days I had nothing to lose. Now I do.
The transition one must make has to do with more than a change in behavior, it has to do with a change of place in society. What I saw driving past me yesterday in a pickup truck was an earlier version of myself, and a frustrated and somewhat helpless overreaction to a situation out of that person's control. Now I see myself as out from behind that middle finger, which really feels better, even if sometimes I end up being on the other side of it.
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