Yesterday I was on my way home in the south-bound lane with the sun fast approaching the horizon. It was commuting time, about half-past four, and traffic was moderately heavy. With the strong sun in my eyes, I wore photochromic lenses and a brimmed hat to help me fight the blazing glare. For the last few miles home the sun was below the horizon, but the dim light of dusk still made it difficult to see oncoming vehicles which didn’t have headlights turned on. I drove more slowly than the speed limit, which irritated the impatient drivers behind me. One after another passed me at break-neck speed, heedless of any obstruction, animal, or person in the road ahead. Some of them veered onto the opposite shoulder in their haste to make time.

I was driving, but as someone who rides a bike more miles than I put on a motor vehicle, my perspective is necessarily that of a cyclist. You might then imagine my thoughts when seeing—or should I say, not seeing—several cyclists traveling the same direction as I, each of them enjoying the late-season warm weather. Every one of them was dressed in clothes that were subdued in color, none of them had a reflector—never mind a taillight—to warn oncoming vehicles that they were sharing the road, and even though I have good vision and my headlights were on, every one of the cyclists took me by surprise when they materialized out of the murk. There were no near-misses, but if I had been one of those impatient drivers, or one of the ones I saw screeching out of the bar and laying rubber, then the events might have been different.

The cyclists could see just fine, I know. As some are wont to say, been there done that. But please, folks, remember that you’re a lot softer than the tons of metal barreling toward you on the highway. We cyclists have got to realize that even if we can see just fine, others might not see us. We must make ourselves visible to motorists. That means wearing bright jackets, jerseys, or reflective vests, however unfashionable you think that might be, and it also means enduring the extra weight of lights fore and aft. This is true even during daytime if the sun is low and glaring, and it’s true during dusk and dawn, as well. Hedge your bets, be bright, rather than being out of sight. It’s something you can live with.

 

 
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