A summary of biking in Minneapolis is that everyone hates everyone. Namaste.
Walkers wander into the bike lane, bikers forget to signal, and drivers are reckless. Commuting regularly via bus, bike, foot, light rail, and car, I have been the accused and the accuser in all of these scenarios.
Once everyone safely arrives to their destination, the dialogue quickly changes to how great the Twin Cities are for offering so many different forms of transportation. In the five years that I’ve lived in Minneapolis, I have been able to explore so much more of the Cities due to all of these options.
It’s true that they aren’t flawless. MPR is required for heavy traffic, buses sometimes follow the beat of their own drum, and sometimes the bike lane disappears without my permission. But I like to think of that as part of the journey, especially with biking.
For a large part of our lives, physical activity is determined by organized sports with the purpose of being the best. For me, biking couldn’t be farther from that. I’ve gotten stranded in St. Louis Park on a pitch black summer night trying out a new route. I’ve made an unannounced U-Turn that prompted a driver to take a few of her fingers off ten and two. I’ve ridden for weeks on incredibly flat tires, all the while assuming that I really needed to work on lower body strengthening.
So, I’m not exactly an expert. But the best part is, I don’t mind.
I love having a hobby that has no pressure to get to certain level, status, or excellence. I love, love, love not paying for parking downtown. I love giving myself permission to not always opt for the most efficient way from Point A to Point B.
And if you know me, you know I love any opportunity to spend less time sitting still. I love having someone 30 years older speed past me on the Cedar Lake Trail, it’s inspiring and humbling all at the same time.
While biking from work to Corepower the other day, I was behind a biker who really looked the part. This is the best case scenario for me- having an expert biker navigate the downtown chaos while I rail closely behind. He was really killing it in his reflective vest, until someone quickly opened their passenger side to hop out for the corner restaurant. The door flew open right in front of him, as he slammed on the brakes and somehow stopped himself from flying over or into the door.
The woman apologized continuously and explained she didn’t seem him approaching. I heard a few passengers behind me, who also gasped watching the scene, say they hope she apologized. As his self-proclaimed side kick, I let them know she did, and I made sure he was okay. He brushed it off like a champ.
In my opinion, that woman isn’t an expert passenger. But who really is? We all make mistakes, so maybe everyone should think of themselves as beginner everything. We all forget time and time again that there’s a world surrounding our Point A to Point B commute. The more we recognize that, the less we get flicked off. Simple.