I always vowed that while riding on the road if a pedestrian was stupid enough to step out in front of me and stay there despite all my best efforts to warn and avoid them, then I would make sure they came off second best.
So how was it, I found myself wondering as I lay there on the ground after just such as encounter, that I came to end up here?
Rider before the storm
Yesterday was a remarkably warm day for the time of year, but as I left the salt mine I couldn't fail to notice that the cool change promised by the BoM was well and truly on the way. (It was probably the way the trees were thrashing around in the wind that gave it away.) So I knew I'd have to really stoke the pedals to stay ahead of the storm.
So I set off down Swanston St with haste but not reckless pace. I waited until we crossed Franklin St (after that treacherously narrow curve in the bike lane in front of the City Baths), before I passed another rider and was just slipping back into the bike lane when I saw her: a woman crossing from the right who hadn't looked for oncoming traffic and clearly had no intention of doing so. If I stayed on my line it was a collision course: she would arrive in the bike lane at the same point and the same time as me.
It's not unusual
Now when this usually happens (and I say "usually" quite deliberately because Swanston St in the evening seems to attract the most suicidal of pedestrians) I find a ring of the bell and a shout either stops people in their tracks (my preferred option) or makes them speed up and get out of the way. I don't really favour the latter choice because non-cyclists are invariably very poor judges of the speed of a bike and when someone bolts for the footpath the risk of collision still remains quite high.
A statue or a bolter?
This person had the look of a bolter so I rang the bell several times, eased off the pedals and made to swerve around her on the right.
BUT…
…she didn't bolt. And she didn't freeze either. She bloody well backed up—right into my overtaking path! At this point I was under heavy brakes and sliding straight towards her. Impact was imminent, so she put her hands up to protect herself just as I was screeching to a halt. Everything would have been OK, except her outstretched arms had the clothes-line effect on me: down toward the pavement I went in a none too graceful arc. She didn't mean to, but she pushed me over.
Shaken but miraculously not seriously hurt, I dragged the ol' treadly to the shore fearing the worst. Looking around for the pedestrian I discovered that I was right after all: she was a bolter. She was already well down the footpath before I managed to shout a sarcastic "Well, thanks very much!" to her retreating back.
The cyclist that I'd overtaken had stopped by now to check that I was OK and I waved him on with thanks. It was then that I realised that the pedestrian had taken off without a bloody word: she didn't even bother to ask if I was OK. Sure we both had our parts to play in this tangled tango but I was the one who ended up in the ditch with bruises and bits of skin missing. Adrenaline and anger at such utter bloody rudeness kicked-in with an almost audible clunk. Now I really fired-up: "And thanks for taking the time to find out if I'm alright you f…" And so on. You get the idea.
Thankfully the bike was unharmed and I was soon trundling downhill again. Actually, there was some harm: somehow the arm had snapped off my bell so I was left without a warning device for the rest of the ride home—and I was disproportionately pissed-off about that, too.
Thank-you for flying…
There's something about an intimate encounter with the bitumen that gets the adrenaline pumping. ("Fight-or-flight", anyone?) And with no serious pain for the body to deal with there was plenty of the substance left sloshing around my system, so I soon found myself really mashing the pedals and charging along the trails. Fortunately I still had about 15km to go, and I needed most of that to burn it all off. (Oh yeah, I wish I could apologise to the pair of fair-weather cyclists I blasted past at the traffic lights on Dunlop St in Ashburton—I didn't mean to be rude, I was still riding under the influence of hormones!)
Lessons and observations
To return to the collision itself, what can I learn from it?
- Was the bell to blame?
I don't agree with many cyclists who recently contributed to a discussion about bell use on aus.bicycle. I find ringing the bell is helpful for keeping me out of trouble and I think it's just plain good manners to use it on the bike trails. But in the Swanston St danger zone, I often find that I both ring and shout (or even just shout) because I need to be heard and a shout adds an unmistakable sense of urgency.
I like my bell, but I think I've got to accept that it may have contributed to last night's debacle. If I'd kept my thumb off the ringer, I might have been able to sweep by on one or other side of the pedestrian—she would have been startled but probably neither of us would have ended up dumped on the ground.
In fact, this incident clearly shows why the British proposal to force cyclists to ring their bells every time they see a pedestrian is ludicrous: sometimes it's safer to take evasive action silently than to expect someone else to make a good decision in a flash.
- Pedestrians are totally unpredictable.
As a general rule, if you can make eye contact with a motorist you can be pretty sure that you've been seen and therefore you can usually trust that the driver will manoeuvre accordingly.
The same does not apply for pedestrians. I am no longer surprised at how inattentive pedestrians can be, even when you approach them directly head-on. I've even known occasions when I've made eye contact with pedestrians and they've still stepped out in front of me. (Bugger his invisibility cloak—all Harry Potter needed to do was to get on a bike!)
I already knew this, but it's a timely note-to-self: pedestrians are totally unpredictable. That isn't about demonising pedestrians, it's about riding conservatively and avoiding trouble. I'll continue to expect the unexpected from pedestrians—only more so, from now on.
- It could have been much worse.
There are any number of ways this incident could have been worse. Most obviously, either or both of us could have been run over if I had been closely followed by a car or a tram. But then again, I don't think I would have needed to take evasive action if I'd been travelling alongside a motorised vehicle because the pedestrian simply wouldn't have been there (or she'd have been struck by something with much more momentum).
Afterthought
By now I reckon I'm the bad guy in somebody's anecdote. The pedestrian concerned, and probably any number of bystanders, will be able to recount the story of how she was ruthlessly ploughed-into and then abused by an aggressive ratbag cyclist. Of course, there will be no mention of her own contribution to the collision and her total lack of concern for my well-being afterwards.
Oh well, I'm glad I'm doing my bit for the positive public impression of cyclists!
Glad to hear the damage to yourself and the treadly was minimal.
It's also worth considering what bell-ringing is for .... it's supposed to be a warning device, but if you were required to ring your bell every time you saw a pedestrian then I'm sure it's effectiveness as a warning device would be lost in the general background din of bell sounds in the city.
The whole world has a blog these days, don't they Peter? But I think I'm more motivated to blather on about trivial incidents like this than the pedestrian. But I agree that it would be interesting to know how she perceived things. I don't try to dodge my contribution to the collision, but I couldn't have done it on my own.
Actually the sort of anecdote I had in mind was a water-cooler exchange, when the topic of conversation turns to bitching about cyclists and someone (recalling this incident) will say "Yeah, I saw a cyclist run over a lady in the street—and then started abusing her!"
As to whether this would have happened in a Copenhagen-style bike lane, I think the only difference would have been that I'd have had less room to manoeuvre. I don't believe that pedestrians will take any particular care when stepping out into a separated cycling lane, at least in part because of the argument that pedaller's been peddling lately: the perception that bikes are toys, and therefore small, slow and harmless. Combine that with our persistent invisibility and…
My immediate thought on reading the story about compulsory bell-ringing in the UK was that it looks like the Red Flag Act all over again—a quaint, misguided idea that's the wrong solution to a perceived problem.
I agree that the bell ringing thing is nuts (you'd have to rig it to the wheel so it continually rang), but I'm not so sure about cycling lanes in general (not in your case) - i think the more we see dedicated physical infrastructure for cycling, the more the general punter is made aware of cyclists as regular, acceptable, normal road users. Though I accept the point about bikes as toys though. On the subject of water cooler talk, you're right! How many times have I had a random person tell me some "evil cyclist" story when they hear I cycle: its exactly the same thing I get with being a vegan ... as soon as people find out they go into a totally defensive-agressive mode... P
Or, the more bike lanes there are, the less aware motorists will become of cyclists in traffic lanes as the expectation is that cyclists will only exist in bike lanes, and that's one of the many concerns I have about bike lanes.
I'm ambivalent about bike lanes (as you can tell from recent posts). I don't oppose or favour them in principle.
But then I don't see the need to "upgrade" Swanston St with the Copenhagen treatment. A problem with these fully segregated lanes may be that pedestrians will tend to step into them (from either side) with less care than they would use when stepping into the "real" traffic lane. And the fact that pedestrians in Swanston St are already pretty relaxed about crossing without looking makes me think that Copenhagen-style lanes won't do anything to change this.
lighthearted comment, no offense meant Pedestrian's fault, bloody idiot. But you're also a bloody idiot for assuming there is a path open to you with a pedestrian in front of you... with them being totally unpredictable, you could have figured that there is an excellent chance for the ped to end up in your assumed path. I have learnt to slow right down, and be ready to come to a full stop if necessary. It's just a pity about the lost momentum...
Absolutely no offense taken jur because I know that you're dead right. Collisions happen because at least one person makes an error of judgement and often, as in this case, both people.
I know your commute is blissfully clear of Swanston St, so let me say that I see the way people walk there as noticeably different to how I encounter pedestrians on the shared trails. At least on the trails we're all travelling in one of two directions—down Swanston at times it seems they're all over the place.
But true to my word, I've been much more cautious since Tuesday night!
Comments
Commiserations man, though you're lucky that you weren't run over on swanston street, particuarly down there where it narrows. These kinds of thing always put a dent in the positive vibe of cycling for a while.
You're right about the negative story: have you searched technorati for her blog post? Might make a good side by side comparison, eh?
Question: could the new lanes have changed the outcome?
Peter