Colm O'Regan: To anyone who drives but doesn’t cycle, watch videos of motorists being tools
I was driving from Mallow to Macroom last Saturday. For those of you who know that journey, the road is…well it follows the landscape.
Somewhere after Dromahane, I got stuck behind a gaggle of cyclists. There were about 20 of them. In the full gear, with nice bikes. Unpassable.
I got fierce annoyed. Why can’t they break into groups, to let me pass? Typical. Out training. Just for sport. What about ME? Under the International Laws Of Who Is More Important On The Road, that is not as important as my errand -getting to the dump. Google Maps said I was supposed to be there 13.43. God only knows WHAT time I was going to make it now. Could I pass here now I wonder? I peeped out. No. Continuous white line. Well, feck them anyway. I nearly beeped to show them how annoyed I was.
And then I copped onto myself. The thing is, I am a cyclist. But a city one. Protected, sort of, by traffic lights, the odd cycle lane. But somehow I’d managed the mental trick of seeing this crowd as different. Not as important as People With Errands.
Social media is awash with videos from cyclists on rural roads showing just how bad the driving is of people overtaking them. There’s one Cork fella –a remarkable crusader who even brings people to our half-arsed court system many times - who seems to be nearly battered nearly every day. If you look at those videos you see the size, the speed, the closeness of the two-to-twenty-tonne machines to the puny human on a skinny parallelogram frame and wheels. And sometimes it’s artics doing it. To know what that feels like, for motorists, imagine if a jumbo jet nipped past you on the bus lane. And beeped the horn. And called you a langer. And was waiting for you at the next Applegreen.
Uphill they were slow, downhill they weren’t much slower than the speed limit. And eventually I got to a straight bit to pass. No swearing. No beeping. No medal for me from the Road Cyclists of Ireland either mind you, but I assume it’s in the post. All I ask is that the statue is something tasteful and restrained.
I got to Macroom Dump. three minutes late. Three. Minutes. Late. On a Saturday. That’s all it cost me. You’d spend three minutes lying to the dump-man about how many bags you had in the boot.
I am not saying Oh Look at me I’m a good person. I’m saying Oh Look at me, I was nearly a risk-taking giant asshole. There is no hierarchy on the road as long as you are obeying the rules. There’s no limit on how many cyclists there can be. The only hierarchy really is: Emergency Services, Silage, Horses, The Rest.
To anyone who drives but doesn’t cycle and doesn’t know why cyclists are annoyed so often, I BEG you: Watch some videos of motorists being tools. The videos are from the cyclist's point of view. Watch how fast a car is. Watch how big it appears. Watch how close it gets.
If you have even a smidge of empathy, it will make you just take it handy the next time you’re stuck behind someone on a road like Mallow to Macroom when you’re in a hurry. It’s not the cyclist's fault you’re in a hurry. You left too late. Shit happens. Cyclists, combines, horses, learner drivers, a funeral, Macroom in general until Spring 2023.
Just watch the videos. It will make you a better driver. It could spare you one experience that will haunt you the rest of your lives. Now breathe. I know this road. There’s a straight bit up ahead.
