Oh, my local MUT has lines dividing the path into directional lanes, not to mention the helpful "Bike Lane" legend painted every 20 feet or so.
Lisa S.H.: "It's up to us to ride in such a way as to avoid hazardous encounters. That might mean riding extremely slowly, avoiding such multi-use paths during crowded hours, or even avoiding them altogether."
*pout* We can't have anything nice. *kicks ground petulantly*
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Seriously, I know that we're always making choices based on the pros and cons of MUTs and the road—each have their disagreeable and downright dangerous issues—but whichever we choose, I don't think there's anything wrong with a little good-natured ranting about each.
In that spirit, I went for a quick ride after work last night, trying to get an hour in before the sun set. To avoid rush-hour traffic hell, I stuck to a lovely bike path the city thoughtfully added when it built a dedicated rapid bus corridor traversing the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles. Not only does it allow for crossing the breadth of the SFV (about 20 miles from one end to the other) free of vehicular competition, it allows for doing so in relatively fresh air—the metroliner rapid buses are all clean-fuel rigs.
I was admittedly booking since I was racing against nightfall, but there weren't many peds or kids to speak of, so no harm. Then I came up on a knot of people who were chatting while blocking both lanes. I slowed a bit, thinking they'd soon notice me coming since it hadn't gotten dark yet and they were, after all, facing me, but when there wasn't any movement I gamely said "coming through" (maybe "permission to pass" would be more accurate to the situation?). Still no movement. I issued an "excuse me" as I got closer, and they still stood their ground, with one of them making and maintaining eye contact with me, as if we were engaged in some war of wills I didn't know I'd signed up for. I had slowed to such a crawl that I was going to have to unclip when other members of the cabal finally saw me and parted like bowling pins. "Thanks," I said, still friendly, as I turned the crank to regain momentum, and that's when Mr. Defiant Eye Contact lunged back into my path saying, "Go ahead and hit me. I want to die!" I managed to spit out "I don't!" as I lurched between him and his friends.
It reminded me of the yahoo-y behavior of pro cycling "fans" who crowd and crane into the route and try to run alongside and touch the riders. I can't imagine what it would be like to negotiate that level of idiocy on a regular basis!
As for bells, I used to rely on the noise of my freewheel to help announce my presence, but my new bike is just too darn quiet.![]()





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