Bicycling Elitism

A Tale of Cycling in Oxford

Act 1: Observation
Once upon a time, I brought my bike on the airplane.  I arrived at this quaint town called Oxford.  Gee, there are a lot of bikers here, I thought.  Look at them weave in-between those very, very large buses in those tiny biking lanes on those very busy streets.  Then, we went on the International Student walking tour, and our guide told us that he knew more than one biking friend who had either gotten conked on the head by a bus and hit by a car.  Nervousness descended.

Act 2: Exploration
One day, I realized that my classes were 2.1 miles away.  Biking was inevitable.  I ventured out like an adopted puppy slowly exploring its new habitat. I tiptoed around corners.  I cautiously walked my bike across streets. I more than once forgot to ride on the wrong side of the road.  I almost got ran over by a truck who forced me to jump the curb when trying to make a right turn.  I got passed by many, many other bikers on their way to class. I hate getting passed. I despaired.

Act 3: Maturation
And then, I realized something.  Bikers rule the roads in Oxford. They outnumber the buses. Just point where you're going, and the cars will defer. The police support you (as long as you have bike lights). Whizzing around a roundabout at top speed? Just stick your arm out and traffic will slow down. Want to weave in-between lanes of a traffic jam while using idling cars to steady yourself? There's already five people ahead of you doing the same thing. Fear blossomed into confidence and then into cockiness.  I bloomed into just another one of those brash Oxford bikers, who seize the roads like they're nobody's business.

I feel, however, that this three-act play may have forever ruined me for biking in the U.S., where bikers do not in fact enjoy the same level of bicycling elitism and there are not bike lanes on every street. I in fact think that if I did what I did this morning, which was ride down the center lane of traffic in the middle of town an attempt to get to the bank, I may get berated rather than begrudgingly obliged.

Until then, I will cruise the streets of Oxford with the rest of the bicycling elitists who believe that combining low-impact exercise with reducing natural resource consumption and feeling that early-morning fresh air is definitely the best way to travel.  Move over, cars.  Cheers, fellow bikers.