Can't we all just share the road and get along?

I digress from my usual blog on leadership to discuss road rage which requires some form of leadership to resolve.   

I was riding my bicycle last month in France with a Tour de France cycling tour group.  It was exciting to experience cycling in a different culture and in a country like France that embraces cycling. 

Automobile drivers in France were extremely courteous and respectful of cyclists.  In the United States, it often times feels as if cyclists are perceived to be tree hugging, Mountain Dew swilling, road rule breaking, F bomb dropping, crazy people.  Perhaps only the last two perceptions are correct.

I ride my bike just about every day in warm weather and last year totaled just shy of 8,000 miles. Because I am out on the roads so often (law of averages), I am exposed to many diverse experiences, which I have listed below with some loose observational facts:

 •  About once or twice per ride a driver will pass with “attitude,” by that I mean they swerve hard to the left and accelerate fast to demonstrate they are mildly irritated by my presence, or that of the peloton in which I am riding. (A peloton is a group of cyclists riding together for camaraderie and to share the work required pedaling against the wind).

 •  Nearly once per ride one of the “attitude” drivers will demonstrate an “extreme attitude” by also displaying the famous one finger salute and in doing so, their rage at my presence on the road.  I often gesture for them to come back and discuss the matter, but 99% of the time they show no interest.  The discussions with the 1% that do come back and talk are often spirited and robust and solve nothing.  The discussions became violent just one time in 25 years as the driver made multiple unsuccessful attempts to implant me in the rear end of his pick up truck. 

 •  About once a week, a driver will intentionally come extremely close in an attempt to intimidate or threaten physical harm.  That is the only time I sometimes reflectively loose control and shout words I didn’t even know I knew.

 •   About once a month someone will throw something at me, most commonly a cup of soda.  An object hurdled from a car traveling 30 to 50 miles per hour hurts.

 None of that occurred in France. All of the drivers were extremely respectful of the cyclists.  And I had to ask myself why? 

 People in France view the bicycle as a utilitarian vehicle that saves energy, and efficiently takes travelers to their destination.  Far more people in Europe use the bicycle as a form of transportation.  They therefore have a better understanding that it is someone much like their neighbor that is on the bicycle and that they are using it as a means of transportation.

 Cycling is a sport that is highly regarded in France, much like football or basketball in the United States. France’s main public television channel broadcasts the Tour de France live and after the race they interview their sport heros for hours.  I think that helps put a face on the cyclist and makes a connection that does not happen as often in our country.

 Millions of people line the Tour de France route to cheer on their sport hero’s. Even as a cyclist, I will be the first to admit that it is not the greatest spectator sport, but line the course and cheer they do.  The day before a tour stage, fans come out in force cheering “Allez, Allez”, even at people like me. (Allez is the French word for “go” or “come on” as in offering encouragement).

 So perhaps by promoting the sport of cycling and the use of the bicycle for transportation, we can help break down the walls of mistrust and misunderstanding that seem to exist between the two groups.  We are your neighbor, your child’s teacher, your doctor, dentist, baker, truck driver, or author and marketing guy.  We have bones that break.  I know that for a fact as I’ve broken them many times.

 But where does the road rage come from?  The pure anger to give a cyclist the one finger salute simply because he or she is wearing spandex and riding a bicycle.  I haven’t figured that out yet. 

The very first day back from France I was back on my bike and a driver turned onto the road that two of us were riding on.  She would have run me over had I not steered quickly off the road and into the ditch.  It is a good thing my mother wasn’t present to hear the string of expletives that came reflectively out of anger.  I turned to my long time riding friend after the close encounter was over and asked, “Did I say the (expletive) word?  He replied, “I believe you did, and I’ve never heard you use that word.” I think after France I had high hopes the world was changing.  I was wrong but remain forever hopeful.  Can't we all just share the road and get along?