Right but Dead

by Mike Rosen

That’s me on my brand-new 1978 Schwinn Sting Ray, my 7th birthday. It was the first bike that was MINE mine, not a hand-me-down from either of my older siblings. This gift would change my life in ways the young mind in that photo could likely never imagine. From that day sprung a lifetime love affair with riding.

I grew up in suburban Chicago in an unincorporated area that looked much different than most suburbs. No cul-de-sacs or sidewalks, no 7-11s or municipal pools.  Across from our house was a forest preserve several hundred acres wide and deep. There were trails, a creek, a pond, and railroad tracks that acted as natural boundaries.  We would spend hours and hours and hours, riding, running, fishing, free. It was heavenly.

Behind our house was similar–another pond, miles and miles of curvy and hilly dirt trails, an abandoned Drive-in movie theater. It’s all been replaced by I-355, but I remember. A quick right down the driveway–our street was a dead end with only two other homes on it–and I was free. It was on those trails I learned how freedom felt. I would ride as fast as I could– out of breath, lungs and legs searing from the exertion. The pain felt good, the more I suffered, the harder I rode, the more free I felt. It’s the same today as it was then, the joy of moving across the Earth, suffering by the power of my own two legs, heart, and lungs. The feelings are unlike many and I am lucky to still enjoy.

My love for bikes and riding continues into adulthood, my relationships with bikes like ones with people. Some I liked more than others, some relationships short, others longer. I know a bike never broke my heart. Some memories are vague, I don’t know what came of my original Sting Ray, I sure wish I still owned it. A Schwinn Varsity my freshman year of high school, my friend Brian and I rebuilt an old Fuji frame with spare parts, sandblasting and painting it after hours in the body shop of the Chevy dealership his family owned in Dubuque. It was forest green, very 1990s.

I’ve been lucky to feel the pure, unadulterated joy of riding on many many occasions and in many places around the world. I’ve summited epic mountain climbs made famous by the Tour de France, shared a blistering paceline with Lance Armstrong  in Iowa, been squarely hit by a car and gone fender, hood, windshield, ground. I’ve broken bones being ‘doored’ by a taxi. I could go on much longer with stories about rides and races and bikes stolen(from me, not by me) and crashes and friendships and more, I’ll get to the point, hang in there.

My current circumstances permit me to bike commute to work. It’s 13 miles each way and it makes me happy every time I get to click into my pedals. My route winds through four adjacent suburbs, traversing highways, neighborhoods, past several high schools, a forest preserve, and more. It’s a wonderful balance of allowing my mind to wander and daydream, take in the smell of the leaves of Fullersburg Woods or focus on school AND it requires a real-time presence to stay safe, a well-honed, anticipatory mindset that assumes nothing about the choices the drivers around me are making. I ride safe and with courtesy, my sole goal is to Arrive Alive. I often daydream that the cars speeding all around me are bikes, the imagery makes me smile and adds joy to my ride.

Weekly I experience near-death interactions with motorists where I technically am ‘in the right’ and where an unaware or distracted driver has completely encroached. This frustrates and makes me angry. As a driver myself, I can see it coming from far far away. A driver in a subdivision entrance whose path directly crosses mine. They need to turn right, they don’t see me coming from the right because they’re 100% focused and looking at the traffic to their left. “They don’t see me. They don’t see me..” I literally say out loud to myself. Hard hard hard on the brakes. They would have killed me had I not stopped. On many occasions I’ve slapped a car that has come within inches of taking me out. I’ve told those closest to me: ‘This is likely how I’ll go (by a distracted driver), know I was really happy right up until that point.” Kidding, but not really.

Every time I ride I have to check my ego. I have to check my desire to be right. I have to check my want to teach drivers lessons in patience, awareness, and courtesy. If I didn’t I’d be dead many times over. I ask myself, would I rather be right or be alive? In every instance where I’ve taken drastic action to prevent an accident caused by a driver, I would have been right and to what end, being killed? My love for riding and staying alive outweighs this risk.

It makes me curious, are there things in your life you’re insistent on, adamant about, things you cling to, perceptions you grip fiercely, all in the name of being right at the cost of potential suffering and/or at the expense of your well-being or those around you? Sure, you might be ‘right’ but at what cost? Are there things you could let go of, check your ego around, perhaps not necessarily be right, maybe not insistent upon teaching a lesson in the moment and subsequently ease the suffering or drama or pain you or those close to you experience? I get to practice this weekly on my bike. What about you?

Tell me more in the Comments please! (and be kind to the cyclists out there. We’re people too! :))