ON MY BIKE SEAT As the Queen song goes, “I want to ride my bicycle.”
Almost a year after my cycling-loving boyfriend handed me a shiny new Trek two-wheeler in hopes of encouraging his girl-friend to get out of her car in favor of exercise, I had only registered about 15 miles on the bicycle.
In three words: I was afraid. Afraid of looking stupid wearing a bike helmet, afraid that an inattentive driver would open their door into my path, or even worse, afraid that a truck would smash my body flat on PCH.
But that all changed after riding with the Santa Monica Critical Mass last Friday, cruising the streets of Santa Monica with a horde of cycling enthusiasts, observing their mannerisms, the way they interacted with motorists and noting some of the challenges they faced on the road and how they reacted to them.
The following Monday, I rode my bike to work with no incidents.
So, would I ride with Critical Mass again? Probably not.
In the beginning, Critical Mass was like a huge party, from the gathering in front of the Santa Monica Pier, everyone smiling and chatting, catching up with the regular CM’ers or “massholes” — depending on who you ask — whom they hadn’t seen since the ride the previous month. On a cold December evening, a day in which I had to take a break from work to buy a scarf at Urban Outfitters, the atmosphere was warmed by the riders themselves, fostering camaraderie and goodwill, cheerful despite the sickening feeling at the bottom of their stomachs that many of them would be ticked by police officers later that night.
Like many big parties, this one was doomed to be broken-up by the end of the night, but not for illegal underage drinking or excessive noise — though the whistles were certainly annoying. The plug was pulled on this big bash by eight traffic citations, with infractions ranging from running a red light to inadequate lighting.
The celebration of bike riding, a monthly event in which riders assert their right to the road en masse, ended with a group of cyclists jumping onto the bike path off Barnard Way, headed to Venice and yelling to a cop car that had followed closely behind,“see you later, Santa Monica,” add in an expletive or two.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on December 15, 2007. Read the original PDF.