Post Dispatch Article

On the road to safe cycling
By Dave Luecking
Of the Post-Dispatch
Monday, May. 23 2005

Bicycling nearly killed me, and except for the grace of God, modern medicine and dumb luck, my name appears in print on this page instead of in marble under a tree somewhere.

No other good reasons explain how I cheated death three times in a three-month span a couple of years ago to continue living and breathing, never mind walking, talking, and, yes, riding . . . with my faculties and limbs mostly in tact.

In some ways, I have been forever scarred by my adventures on two wheels. Bicycling has given me . . . An inch-long-by-half-inch-wide scar on my left shin where the carbon-fiber fork of my road bike opened a gash after being sheered off in a 20 mph joust with an Oldsmobile Achieva. A right shoulder that aches after anything resembling a throwing motion, as the result of being unable to stick the landing after cart-wheeling over the top of the aforementioned Achieva. A small indentation on my right shin where a surgeon had to slice a hole to drain the crash-related infection that had festered for more than a week, reached the circumference of a grapefruit and caused my lower leg to swell to roughly the size of Florida. More emotional scars than I care to admit. Suffice it to say the therapy seems to be working . . . well, mostly working . . . sometimes.

I still ride, though not with quite the same passion and, dare I say, love as before. I'd like to think I'm smarter now, more mindful and respectful of the hazards of sharing the road, and perhaps that sense of caution has taken away the joy. Or maybe the thrill is gone because I'm just scared, afraid of the pain that accompanies falling flat on one's face in pursuit of the risk-begets-reward scenario.

You see, when cycling morphs into something more than recreation, you get a little crazy - in a good way, mostly - and you live for that perfect ride, your legs and heart pumping, your confidence soaring. Before long, you feel limited by the boring and mundane sameness of the nearby paved trail, and cycling expands your world and leads you to the streets and into traffic where you are exposed and vulnerable, with your well-being dependent upon the trust you place in those with whom you share the road.

Sharing the road is hazardous enough without the cyclist adding to the danger by being careless or inattentive, as I learned in April 2003. As I leaned into a left turn off a small hill in Illinois farm land, I became momentarily distracted, failed to notice the pothole and took quite a tumble.

The thing about having your front wheel swallowed by a pothole at 15-20 mph is that the bike pretty much stops, but you keep going. One moment you're riding high in the saddle and the next your bike's trailing 10 feet behind and you're sliding along on the pavement, your flesh wounds being imbedded with tarry road gunk.

A little road rash - even a lot of road rash - isn't that bad considering the head, neck or shoulder injuries that can result from somersaulting over the handlebar. Antibacterial soap, antiseptic and a generous slathering of antibiotic ointment take care of road rash in a few days . . . except if you miss a spot, as I did. A small discoloration that I believed to be a bruise evolved into a civilization of germs hell bent on expanding their universe and thereby threatening mine.

The surgeon's scalpel and a course of antibiotics ended that invasion, and in no time I was back in the saddle, only to be nearly done in by a 0 mph rumble with a semi in Washington, Mo., in early July 2003.

I had pulled up alongside the 18-wheeler at a stop light and stopped in the trucker's blind spot, a very bad move. As the driver turned right, cutting the corner way short, he didn't see the knucklehead on the bicycle standing in the trailer's path. Fortunately, I realized the danger in time to dive onto the sidewalk, getting myself and most of my bike out of the way, my heart racing as the truck clipped my back wheel, then bounded over the curb and on its merry way.

Like the pothole/infection, this mishap gave me pause - and a $150 bill for a new wheel - but didn't slow down my cycling, which nearly came to a permanent halt a few weeks later on a gorgeous July day - July 24, 2003 - because I failed to stop at a flashing red light downtown.

Of course, any 5-year-old will tell you red means stop and green means go, yet I treated this flashing red as a green and blew into the intersection of 18th and Locust streets at 20 mph, incorrectly assuming that the drivers on Locust also had a flashing red and would be stopping for both of us.

Nearly a fatal mistake, that one.

The woman in the Oldsmobile Achieva had a flashing yellow light, hence the right of way, putting us on a collision course. I saw her coming, reached for my brakes in a panic - and missed. She didn't see me at all until she heard the sickening ka-thump of my bicycle and my body plowing into her right-front fender, then saw my frightened face streaking past her windshield.

Hey, that'd freak anybody out.

From where I sat, the collision itself wasn't so bad. In fact, the anticipation of the impact was worse than the actual impact - it seemed . . . to . . . take . . . for . . . ev . . . er - and it wasn't until I went out of control and into cartwheel mode that things got really dicey. It felt like sailing through the corkscrew on the Ninja at Six Flags, only faster, followed by a violent body slam onto my shoulder, back and behind as I crash landed on the street.

Though my helmet was scuffed, I remained conscious throughout the ordeal and the first thing I told the woman was that the crash was totally my fault. I figured that if the internal injuries kicked in, the white lights beckoned and I passed to the great beyond, I wanted her to know that she was not at all to blame for my stupidity.

In the emergency room, doctors sewed up the gash in my leg, observed me for internal injuries, then sent me home a few hours later, battered and bruised, to ride another day.

More than one person wondered whether my two-wheel mishaps were cries for help, suggesting that I should have had my head examined as well. My standard response was that these were merely unfortunate mistakes, correctable errors from which I not only recovered but learned and improved as a cyclist. But over time I've concluded that my mistakes were evidence of romance run amok - being distracted, ignoring or not sensing danger, misreading stop signs.

So now I ride with trepidation, caution and an aversion to risk, all of which protects me from the biggest menace I've encountered on two wheels - me.

So you think you're Lance Armstrong . . .

Biking is a great way to get in shape this time of year, but it's also one of the most dangerous. Here are some ways to stay safe:

Head first: Everyone - repeat, everyone - regardless of age or cycling ability, should wear a helmet when he or she climbs onto a two-wheeler. In fact, the law in St. Louis County requires it for ages 17 and under. Not just any helmet will do. The cranium cover must meet certain standards and must be approved by one of the following: the U.S. Consumer Products Safety Commission, the American National Standards Institute, the SNELL Memorial Foundation or the American Society of Testing and Materials. A helmet is good for one crash or five years, whichever comes first - with luck, the latter.

Wear it right: Now that you've got a helmet, use your head and wear it properly. Chin-straps are there for a reason, so use 'em. Also, wear the helmet level on your head, just about even with your eyebrows and never prop it up in such a way that exposes your forehead. Helmeted cyclists have died when their foreheads bounce off the pavement while their helmets protected the rest of their craniums.

Tire eaters: Beware open drainage grates on roads, shoulders, bridges . . . basically anywhere that cars and bicycles share space. These grates have been known to swallow tires whole, abruptly stopping a bicycle's forward momentum and sending the cyclist flying over the handlebars and skidding down the pavement. If you find yourself and your bike in a position in which you cannot steer around this type of obstruction, roll over the grate at an angle whereby your tires roll over the grate's bars as opposed to diving into the space between two of them.

Pot stickers: Steer around them if at all possible. If that's impossible, well, you're pretty much going to take a tumble unless you can hop the bike over the obstruction; you might not stay upright but it's your only chance.

Trainwrecks: There may not be a train for miles, but approach railroad crossings with great caution. Reduce speed and roll over the tracks at a 90-degree angle, or as close to a 90-degree angle as possible. Anything less (or more depending on your perspective) can cause your front wheel to go askew and roll in a direction different than the one you're heading, sending you to the pavement.

Free falling: When you fall, and you will fall eventually - even Lance Armstrong falls - be prepared, as in travel with a small first-aid kit. You'll need the antiseptic and antibiotic creams to clean your wounds and prevent the onset of infections.

Gravel pit: When approaching gravel on the roadway, reduce speed, keep the bicycle upright and avoid leaning or turning the wheel.

Walk the walk: Every cyclist needs to know that sidewalks are called sidewalks for a reason; they're for walking, not riding. So whether you're on a cruiser, a mountain bike or a fancy road bike, leave the sidewalks for the ambulatory.

Sharing the road: Unless you do all of your cycling on some of the area trails, you're going to have to ride on the street, and where there's a street, there is traffic. The key is to safely co-exist with motorized transport, and to do that, you must observe a number of rules.

1) Ride with the traffic, not against the traffic. That way, if you're going to get hit, better to be hit from the rear as opposed to getting hit head on.

2) Ride as far to the right as possible, without riding in the gutter or in the parking lane. A good rule of thumb is to stay a foot inside of the white line. But if there's a wide shoulder completely free of parked cars, by all means use it. That said, if there are parked cars, you shouldn't weave in and out of the lane with them; just stay on the road in that case.

3) Obey traffic rules. Cyclists tend to be their own worst enemies in the car-bike relationship because they selectively observe the rules of the road, say by pedaling through stop signs and red lights when it's convenient. This not only is illegal, it's stupid. So, stop when you're supposed to stop, and signal all turns using the old-time car turn signals - left arm out for a left turn, left arm bent at the elbow with the hand held high for a right turn, and left arm bent at the elbow with the hand held low for stopping. Be kind and courteous at all times. No need to incite road rage.

Trail blazing: Safely out of traffic, you turn onto one of the area's nice paved trails, and you just want to hammer the pedals and fly at 20-25 miles per hour, wind at your back, free as a bird, feeling like Lance, dreaming of Sheryl . . . and you're being an idiot. Regardless of how fast you think you are, you are not Lance, Sheryl does not like you, and this is not the Tour de France. Paved trails are shared by walkers, runners, bladers and families with small children. So, ease up when you approach other human beings and always be courteous and friendly as you alert them that you're approaching on the left.

Talk to me: Riding in groups can be fun unless you're dropped five minutes into the ride or ride with silent Sams who fail to warn you of impending danger. OK, the first is an ego thing. The second is a safety issue. You must point out anything of danger to the cyclists behind you, say a pothole on the right, or a car at an intersection. A gesture as simple as pointing at the pothole will suffice, but announcing the obstruction also helps. It doesn't have to be a soliloquy either, just a simple "HOLE, RIGHT!," or "CAR LEFT!" or "GRAVEL!" will suffice.

Night riding: You wouldn't drive your car at night without using the lights, and the same goes for a bicycle. A small, battery-operated light will suffice in front, though a high-powered, white halogen light on the front is preferable because you'll be able to see as well as be seen. On the back, a red flashing light (or two, or three) enables drivers to see you. At the very least, reflectors visible from the back and from the side are mandatory.

No pods: You've downloaded the music, gotten new batteries and upgraded your head phones and now you're all set to cycle and jam . . . well, forget about it. Leave the music at home. Closing out the outside world while riding your bicycle is a death wish. You must have all of your senses available, including and especially your hearing. You need to be able to hear cars approaching from behind, or cyclists who are announcing that they're overtaking you on the left.

Soft cell: Talking on a cell phone while bike riding is worse than listening to music. With your ears, mouth and brain engaged, you'll be totally distracted, and it only takes a small distraction to keep you from seeing and reacting to that pothole closing in at 20 miles per hour.

The parking spots: The new bike lanes in St. Louis are a much-welcomed addition, but they still require the cyclist to pay attention, especially where the lanes run alongside on-street parking. Why's that, you ask? Well, anyone who has crashed into a suddenly opened car door can answer that question. Open car doors can protrude into the bike lane and bring the ride to an abrupt halt. Cyclists should ride along the left side of the bike lane when cars are parked alongside, and they should keep their heads up and pay attention to whether anyone is sitting in the driver's seat of a parked car.

Be courteous: Whether you're on the road or on a trail, be nice, smile at drivers, wave them through, nod your head in acknowledgment if they give you the right of way, say hi to people you pass on the trail, make small talk, and most of all, leave your baggage at home. Pedaling on two wheels is supposed to be fun, an escape; it's liberating, collegial and life transforming. And this is a safety issue, you wonder. Well, yeah. It's much safer to take a friendly posture than it is to antagonize someone behind the wheel of a 2,000 pound battering ram. So take care, have fun and enjoy the rides.