Bike Crash! POW!

So, I got in my first "bike crash" today. Pretty big milestone for me -- I had a paper route for 3 years, and I've been riding here for about 7 months...and I'd never come into contact with another bike or car in all that time.

But I got it today. The brass ring. I got my ass run over.

Or...at least...my front tire.

It started off like any other Thursday morning, riding into work. As I pulled off of Glenoaks onto Buena Vista, I saw a line of cars stopped at an intersection. So, tucking myself as far right as I could, I started cruising past the stopped automobiles.

"Suckers," I thought to myself. "Bet you wish you could be me, all foot-light and fancy free."

However, annoyingly, one dude in a black Jeep started creeping into my lane...either because he saw me and wanted to block me in...or because he didn't see me, and he just sucks at driving. This happened at the "red X."



Either way, I motored past him and headed for the light. To my dismay, another motorist in a white car was creeping into my lane as well. I tried to speed up and pass her.

But she wasn't creeping, she was turning. Right. Onto the freeway on-ramp. I wasn't watching for an actual right-hand turn, because we hadn't reached the intersection yet -- she was using that little space between the "parked cars on the right" and the "intersection" to turn early.



Consequently, I didn't realize what was happening until too late. My front tire lost a "battle of tires" to her right-front tire, and I was launched about 10 feet off of my bike, onto the nice little grassy area between the road and the sidewalk.


Luckily for me, there was no limo parked there...so I had a nice, soft landing.

The first thing I thought was: "Shit." Not because I was upset, but because I had, apparently, Superman'd through a pile of dog shit, which was now all over the front of my green hoodie.

I started laughing, even as I was skidding across the grass. This was probably out of embarrassment...but also because it was kind of neat to slide across a patch of wet grass. I secretly hoped that it looked pretty cool to the other cars waiting at the stoplight. This is kinda' how I imagined it:



Now there is this weird moment in time, where a "vehicle" somehow magically transforms from an "obstacle to avoid" into a "human being." It's a really bizarre thing...and anyone who's been in a car accident is probably familiar with this transition. It's jarring. One moment there's a car that's somehow drifting into me...at the next moment, there's a very nice, older woman standing next to me telling me "I'm sorry -- I didn't see you there. Are you okay?" with an indeterminate eastern European accent.

And I was. Okay. The bike was...well...beaten up, but it looked like it hadn't been too damaged, structurally. The tire was bent, but not extremely so (I was still able to ride it, once I'd disengaged the front brake). But the fork, brakes, handlebars, pedals, and gears all seemed to come through with minor scratches. Heck, my clothes even came through unscathed...unless you count the smear of feces down the front of my hoodie. But my newly-purchased khakis didn't have so much as a grass stain on them.

But I ran into another problem: "So...what now?" It's not like we could exchange insurance info (that's part of the reason I ride a bike -- no insurance). And it's not like she's on the hook to pick up the tab or anything. I mean...I suppose she is legally...but it's not like I was going to file a claim with her insurance or anything. It was just a stupid little bent wheel.

"Oh shit," I thought, smelling poop, "was this my fault?"

I went over the accident in my mind. Squeeze past asshole in Jeep. Approach intersection. Try to squeeze past car turning. Bike tire squished. Flying. Shit.

This is officially collision type #7 on the bike safety checklist...it's also known as "The Right Hook, Pt. 2". Of course, legally, I was in the clear because she hit me, not the other way around. According to Johnny Law, she should have checked her blind spot before turning right.

But, realistically, I was not in the right. I should have slowed down to the speed of traffic once the light turned green. I should seen and recognized her turn signal. I should have known the on-ramp was coming up. I pride myself on making it so that I don't even give cars the opportunity to hit me (called: "Ride as if you're invisible"). But this time I totally failed.

Which meant that, as she was giving me her contact information, and taking mine...and as she offered to pay for the repairs (a very nice woman, like I said), all I wanted to do was apologize to her for being an idiot, and a terrible cyclist. It reminded me a lot of this:



But I just rode off instead, only issuing a lame, half-assed warning to her that she should be watching for bicycles. As I was about a half-mile down the road, she called me and apologized, asking if I needed a ride to where I was going (as I say, she was a very nice lady). I called her back and told her that I was fine, and thanks for calling.

The Field Guide to Identifying LA Cyclists

About five months ago I bought a $250 bicycle from Target. As I was leaving the Target, I went the wrong direction to get to the freeway on-ramp, and did a u-turn in the middle of the block. Unbeknownst to me, there was a motorcycle cop watching me from a block away, and as I approached his position, he walked into traffic and motioned me to pull over. He gave me a ticket for an illegal u-turn, and I owed the city $256.00.

There's some kind of irony there, but I'm far too tired (drunk) to wring it out. Point is; my car has been dying a pitiful and slow death since it was fatally crippled on the Vegas strip in 2008. And once I got a steady job in Burbank, I decided that...aw...hell with it. I was going to start riding my bike to work as much as possible.

So I did. Why a bicycle? I dunno'. I hadn't really ridden a bike consistently since my paper route in the 9th grade (and my only recent foray into the cycling world was a doomed attempt to circumnavigate Lake Lucerne in 2008). I've never been too psyched about being all "environmental" (though the cut in gas spending is nice). And it's not like I'm a cycling fanatic of any kind. I guess I just thought it'd be a good, fun way to keep in shape while keeping my expenses low.

Now, 5 months after my purchase, I'm pretty damn comfortable on the thing. And, naturally, I consider myself to be an expert on "cycling in Los Angeles."

Because I'm like you. I used to drive everywhere. I still do, when my wife lets me borrow her car. I've been on both sides. I know what it's like to drive next to a dude who's riding in the middle of a lane, or to be cut off by a lunatic weaving in and out of traffic. I get that. I'm not some "foaming at the mouth" cycling advocate who bristles when someone suggests that, maybe, taxes should be spent fixing roads and paying teachers, not building bicycle lanes (for the record, I'd rather see bicycle lanes...but I admit that I'm totally biased now).

But to help the layperson understand that, hey, not all of those dorks riding bicycles are the same, I've broken the riders down into three distinct classifications: Noobs, Fixies, and Enthusiasts.

Now, before I begin, I must give this disclaimer: I love all these folks, partly because I know a few people who fit snugly into these categories quite nicely (looking at you, Evanses). So, I write this entry with nothing but the utmost respect for those good folk, toodling around on two wheels. Keep it up, and I salute you.

First up...


NOOBS


Yes, noob. Cars are scary. Hey...that girl looks familiar...?


Itty bitty wheels, to go with the itty bitty amount of clothing.


Off to school. Or juvy.

A Noob (nōōb) is a newcomer to the bicycling scene. Not to worry -- we all start off as noobs, so hold your head high, you rapscallion.

Scientific Classification: novus cyclus

How to Spot a Noob: if they're doing their job right, you'll never see them. They blend in with society, and stick to low-traffic areas (like parks, beaches, and bike paths). Normally, they'll be wearing totally inappropriate riding attire (suits, sandals, baggy pants, etc.) and either no safety gear at all, or a lone ill-fitting helmet.

Noob Bicycle of Choice: The bicycle will be one of three types; a rental, a fresh-out-of-box department-store brand, or a recently-dusted-off former garage-bound ride. Occasionally it's just a straight-up "stolen bike."

The Noob Riding Style: Two words; sidewalks (I mean one word. Oops.) Noobs love riding on the sidewalk, because they're terrified of getting hit by a car (rightly so). They also love biking trails, because they're totally devoid of those nasty four-wheeled gas-powered demons.

Where to Spot a Noob: Any bike path, park, or sidewalk in the city.

Noob Subcategories: There are two categories of Noob: the "Working Noob" (novus cyclus occupadae), and the "Recreational Noob" (novus cyclus funnus). The Working Noob is an individual that, for whatever reason, can't take a car into work (either because of a "lack of money," or because the "state has taken away their driving privileges"). The Recreational Noob is either trying to get into cycling because it's a "great way to work out," or they're on vacation, and a bike rental seemed like "a pretty cool idea." Either way, they display the same characteristics as other Noobs, except they tend to look like they have "money to spend."

Standard Noob Occupations: child, homeless, slightly overweight technology-industry employee, out-of-towner

Why Drivers Hate Noobs: Noobs are actually hated more by pedestrians than drivers, because (as I mentioned earlier), drivers will probably never get to see an Noob in nature (surface streets). Pedestrians hate Noobs because they take up valuable, exceedingly rare "walking" real estate. But their timidity is part of the reason that drivers hate them -- they blend in so well with all the other city noise that a driver turning left into a parking lot might not actually see the guy with no helmet or head lamp, creeping along the sidewalk in their beaten-down BMX bike. This can be a pretty dangerous situation; especially if the driver (like most drivers in Los Angeles) is really inattentive.

Why Noobs Hate Drivers: That's pretty simple: because they're terrified of cars. You would be too if you were scurrying around on two wheels at 10 miles per hours, while assholes driving SUVs honk at you for no reason, or teenagers throw crap at you as they're speeding past, or sports cars whip by you with their engines gunning. It's pretty damn scary out there.

How Can You Tell if You're a Noob: Are you scared of riding in traffic? If the answer is "yes," then you're a Noob.


Next up...


FIXIES


No brakes!


Aviator sunglasses? Check. Rolled up jeans? Check. Slightly askew baseball hat? Check.


Fixie wolf pack. Beware...

A Fixie (fĭks'ē) is a cycling anarchist. These hard-core cyclists have done away with things that lesser mortals take for granted (like the "ability to coast,"or "brakes"). The name derives from their ride of choice, the "fixed wheel bicycle."

Scientific Classification: hipsterus fixae

How to Spot a Fixie: You won't see them until the last second, as they're cutting in front of you to go screaming into the Trader Joe's parking lot. When you do see them, you'll notice similarities. First off, they'll either have a "cycling cap," or a "scalp full of shaggy hair." Most will have a backpack, tight t-shirt, rolled up jeans (or capris), and slip-on sneakers (or Chuck T's). there are very few variations on this style.

Fixie Bicycle of Choice: Pretty self-explanatory. The only real variation is whether or not the bike has brakes. Because, let's be honest -- brakes are for pussies.

The Fixie Riding Style: Whatever gets the rider from Point A to Point B in the shortest amount of time. This includes weaving between cars, jumping onto a sidewalk, cutting through parking lots, hopping fences, running red lights, going into oncoming traffic, etc. Basically, anything goes. Their approach to road safety is: "I'm not going to stand still long enough for a car to hit me." Occasionally, in big groups, they will get bold and go so far as block intersections so their riding partners can pass without slowing down or stopping. I do not condone this action.

Where to Spot a Fixie: Silver Lake. Or downtown.

Fixie Subcategories: There are two categories of Fixie: the "Bike Messenger Fixie" (hispsterus fixae mercurius), and the "Dirty Hippie Fixie" (hispsterus fixae pogostemin cablin). The Bike Messenger is, by far, the more aggressive Los Angeles cyclist type. They will often display elaborate tattoos, and scars from previous riding accidents. In addition, they are the most fearless cyclist type, showing an "I'm indestructible complex," or often just a simple "death wish." The Dirty Hippie Fixie will have a beard (on males), or un-shaved armpits (on females). They will also smell pretty terrible.

Standard Fixie Occupations: band member, barista, waiter, "currently unemployed"

Why Drivers Hate Fixies: Because they don't play by the rules of the road. And they all seem to be just a little too proud of their "zero emission transportation."

Why Fixies Hate Drivers: Because drivers use a liquid called "gasoline" to power their automobiles, which means they hate the environment, and Fixies (by proxy).

How Can You Tell if You're a Fixie: Quick test -- can your bicycle coast? If the answer is "no," then you're a Fixie.


And finally...


ENTHUSIASTS


I imagine that, in his mind, those bike handles are for shewting lazors...PEW PEW PEW!!!


Sorry Chad, but you're just a perfect example.


Old man + Spandex = Awesome.

An Enthusiast (ěn-thōō'zē-ŭst') just absolutely loves cycling. They are the outspoken ambassadors of the sport, and if they're out, they would want you to know that.

Scientific Classification: cyclus cyclus

How to Spot an Enthusiast: Enthusiasts are hard to miss. During they daytime they're decked out in garishly-colored skin-tight cycling outfits. At night, they're lit up like a Christmas tree with reflectors and lights a'plenty. It's actually harder to "not" spot an enthusiast than it is to spot one.

Enthusiast Bicycle of Choice: Nothing under $1,000. The bike should weigh less than 20 pounds. And the shoes must clip into the pedals.

The Enthusiast Riding Style: When you hear an enthusiast tell you to "share the road," what they really mean is: "give me the road." Enthusiasts regularly ride in packs of two or more, and drive the same way as any car would, if cars were also allowed on to bike paths.

Where to Spot an Enthusiast: Any street or bike path. Any time. Anywhere.

Enthusiast Subcategories: There are two categories of Enthusiast. "The Racer" (cyclus cyclus racidae), and "The Trainer" (cyclus cyclus cyclus). The distinction is fairly simple -- the Racer is an Enthusiast who regularly enters "racing competitions." The Trainer is an Enthusiast who wants to appear as though they regularly enter "racing competitions."

Standard Enthusiast Occupations: manager, executive, analyst, assistant, processor, professor, adjuster, "white-collar-employed-individual"

Why Drivers Hate Enthusiasts: Because Enthusiasts seem to be under the impression that they are cars. It's not unusual to see a group of enthusiasts occupying an entire lane of traffic, going about 20 miles per hour...which is pretty good for a bicycle, but really irritating for an automobile, who just wants to pass them without pissing them off or accidentally hitting one. Also, Enthusiasts will happily slap car roofs, yell into open windows, and tap on closed windows of cars that have "done them wrong," because they feel it's their duty to inform the masses of drivers out there that, hey, cyclists are cars too. Understandably, this rubs drivers the wrong way.

Why Enthusiasts Hate Drivers: Because they won't share the damn road! In fact, it's scientifically proven that, if everyone got around on a bicycle, the world would be a better place.

How Can You Tell if You're an Enthusiast: Two questions. A) Do you own any Spandex? B) Can you name more than one person who raced in the Tour de France last year? If the answer was "yes" to both question, then you are an Enthusiast.



"So," you might be asking, "Tyler; what are you?"


AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Well, I know it's a total cop-out, but I consider myself to be a bit of a hybrid. I dress like a Noob (because I'm usually on my way to or from work), and I own a "Noob-ish" Target-bought bicycle. But my riding style is more like a Fixie (getting from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible). But I have an Enthusiast's occupation (paralegal).

Honestly, I'm probably more of a Noob than anything else...especially when you consider the fact that I'm writing a blog entry about other cyclists...which is such a noobish thing to do. Ah, me.