I am a cockroach of the road.

Ok, I just like saying it.  

I am a cockroach of the road.

A year or two ago an Austrailian study came out where over 50% of drivers said they regarded cyclists as not only non human, but as the "cockroaches of the road".  Made the rounds of facebook and so forth.  I'm sure you can look it up if you really need to see it.  But like most folks on facebook, why look any deeper than the headline to get offended?  Unless... it's telling you something you already knew?

We were late meeting up with John and Pete.  Riding in the bike lane was the fastest way down to the bridge.

"Get on the F***ing sidewalk!"  

I could see the spittle flying from the open passenger window, as the gray sedan pulled past on South Patrick Drive.  

"Boy, I really hope they have to stop at the light."  I said to Popeye.    
I was spoiling to catch up with these people, especially if Spittle-Woman in the passenger seat still had her window down.  I so rarely ride in a bike lane anymore, that it had been a while since getting cursed at.  So there's been plenty of time to think up a few comebacks and I was itching to try one out.  But no, they made the light, and roared off.  I know.  Probably just as well, right?  Especially in Florida, number one in the US for pedestrian and cyclist fatalities.  

Master Chung used to say there are three levels of fighting.

The highest level was to avoid any situation that would get you into a fight.

The second level is to talk your way out of a fight.  Reason rarely works on unreasonable people.  But sometimes humor, deflection, or asking a simple unrelated question, will.  (One of my favorites is to suddenly ask for directions.  I know it sounds goofy, but it has worked for me - all but once, which is, of course, another story altogether.)

The third level of fighting, the absolute lowest level, is to actually get into a fight.  It's good to be ready if it comes to that, but if you practice your own self control, most of the time it will never happen.

So, the goal of a truely accomplished martial artist is to never actually use his art.  Whoa.

"So, I called the cops.  Then I waited 45 minutes on the side of the road before the traffic let up enough to get by the construction.  And the cops never did come." said my friend, as we chatted in a parking lot about an intersection that we all use.

Yes, some of our friends actually ride with rules.  They take the lane, and signal, and wait for red lights.  

Bless their hearts.

Calling the cops would never have occurred to me.  Heck, just plain waiting would not have occurred to me.

It was at that moment, that I realized I am indeed, a cockroach of the road.

Riding like a roach keeps me safe.  (As safe as possible anyway - knock on wood and all that.)

Anyone who has even chased a roach around the kitchen knows they are damnably difficult to catch.  They are masters of evasion.  They take shelter in unreachable places.  But only until there's a moment to make a break for it.  And when they go, they go fast.  They aren't going to hand you any opportunities to smash them.  

Aim for the spots where cars can't get you.  Medians are a favorite of mine.  The mountain bike my essential tool as a COTR.  Versatile enough for taking ditches and grass to avoid cars, and riding on the wrong side if there's room.  I'll ride an extra block or an extra mile to avoid multiple lanes and big intersections.  And don't even get me started about avoiding traffic circles, aka circles of death.

I am a Cockroach of the Road.  I do what I have to do.  Live to ride, and ride to live another day.