Disposable

"My wife said "on your left" before. He was one the far right of the trail. We rode by giving him probably 2-3 feet of space"


My state has a 3 foot passing law. Seems like if the lane is 14 feet wide, and he was all the way over, you could've given more than 2 feet of clearance.

I know it’s the accepted thing to do, and I know it’s better than just sneaking up on people, but I HATE IT when somebody says "On your left!" to me. Or even worse, just "Left!" The idea was to give a little warning, like a tap on a car's horn from a bit of distance; but the way it’s worked out is to be just a way of saying "Get out of my way." It’s never soon enough to react to, it’s often too soft, and it’s occasionally muttered at my Right elbow as I'm trying to ease around a walker myself. I pass at 5 or 6 mph and I ding my stupid little bell from 30 feet back and I try to be the cyclist the peds don't remember when they're thinking about how folks go too fast in the place they thought was going to be a lot more quiet and peaceful than it turns out to be. And if I want to go faster, or maintain my speed for some reason? Roads. That's what they're for, after all.

"I must admit I'm a bit afraid. I might avoid the trails for a while. Cars aren't scary. Angry monkeys are."


I think sometimes folks are so used to the isolation that modern life affords us, that dealing with strangers in unscripted situations really can make us afraid. But the solution to that isn't to stay home and dehumanize the rest of your fellow humans; it's to get out there on the path among them. So he's a thin-skinned cheeser and over-reacted to some little everyday slight; there's lots of us like him out there and we get to keep using the path.