Psychological reinforcement

Oh the power of one negative comment. Biking around (and here biking is used to mean riding a bicycle and not a motorcycle) the VT Drillfield is a pain in the ass. Well, more like a pain in the quads, but you get my point. There are no specific bike lanes and the way uphill is crowded with parked vehicles and the lovely BT buses that stop to drop and load people. If you are on a bicycle, good luck making it on the road there. So, lots of people use their bicycles on the sidewalks across the Drillfield. Yes, I know it's weird, but everybody does it. Furthermore, lots of people use their bicycles on other sidewalks around campus, and thar is justified to a point, since the VT campus does not have a lot of bike-dedicated lanes like, say, the NMSU campus does (and here I am talking about universities I know). Although I found it a little weird, I got into the habit of riding my bike on the sidewalk in order to make it through the Drillfield. I am always nice to people walking and stop and walk to avoid bugging them, or I say "excuse me, thank you" or even make a lame joke about how I am confused thinking the sidewalk is part of the road. They laugh, I move on. Well, about a year ago I was riding my bike on the way home, just in front of Burruss Hall, when a small group of kids probably here for orientation were walking ahead of me. I slowed down and announced I was behind them by yelling "Excuse me guys, thank you very much." Shit, that sounds friendly. I didn't even pay attention to the demographics of the dudes, but I wanna say they look like incoming freshmen who probably were convinced that 1) they ruled the world, and 2) I was a janitor or a poor moron who can't afford a motor-powered vehicle. One of the douchebags from the group yelled at me "It's called a sidewalk, not a sideride!" I stopped. I was preparing my speech on how the rules of roads in Pepesburg or wherever this pendejo of a gentlemoron was from were not the same as in the VT Drillfield, or probably tell him that, you know, I am not the university's provost... but... I am not 100% a moron. I decided not to say anything because I was getting very angry and didn't want to go all Pedrito on them. So I ignored them and left. Well, that shitty incident has affected me for almost a year. Now, whenever I am on campus I walk like an idiot dragging my bike whenever I hit a sidewalk, and I have developed a passion for the risk of being "suspended" (this a a reference to our years in high school) or fajeado on the road next to the buses. For almost a year I still can hear the probably by now chlamydia-infected and gunja-addicted idiot who yelled at me last summer. The power of negative reinforcement indeed.
Oh vindication... today we received a memo with VT's new bike and personal transportation policy, which clearly states that "bicycles are allowed on sidewalks but pedestrians have the right of way and bicyclists must be careful of and courteous to pedestrians." I have always been careful and courteous. Please join me in a secret negative thinking pledge and hope the dude who yelled at me last year chokes on a hot dog this summer.

Comments

[LP]

There's something about bicycles and negative comments that just stays with a person for years.

Flashback to a time, long ago...in a far-away land. I'm 17 years old and riding my bike through the suburb of Richmond/Steveston. It was a era where "fashion" was defined by one's dark, mahogany tan....this is long before it was OK to be pale and not die of skin cancer. To know me, is to know I would never have had a mahogany tan unless I fell in a vat of furniture stain during an industrial accident at the Ethan Allen factory. My northern British roots equal 24/7 pallor.

Anyway, there I am riding my bike....having a good time. I'm wearing a piece of clothing from the era...a terry romper (see: http://store.americanapparel.net/rsatr300.html for an example) and I'm feelin' good. Hell, I'm 17...other than the pallor, what's there to feel bad about.

Then, as I'm riding along, this car of "hot" guys pulls along side me. These are guys who have David Cassidy feathered hair and can actually grow a full moustache. Oh...they must've been 19, maybe 20...worldly fellows, indeed.

The windows roll down...and I'm thinking how cool it would be to have a boyfriend who's sophisticated and NOT in high school. I mean, wow....guys like this *about* to talk to me.

In unison, they all bellow: "Hey Casper, get a tan." I hear the loud laughter as they drive away, their tires spinning rocks and gravel back at my face.

Yup. That bicycle incident is still with me.

[ASP]

Bicycles are truly traumatizing. Still won't get on one after my death-defying fall into a canyon (okay, a ditch, but to a short 5-year-old, it's about the same).

As a pedestrian, I really don't care if bikes are on the sidewalk as long as they don't mow me down - I wouldn't want to deal with the crazy drivers around here, either :)

[RW]

I'm glad that policy is now on your side. I would fall over dead if a bicyclist on campus said 'excuse me' or slowed down when approaching from the opposite direction in an effort to avoid running me over. You should tuck a copy of the policy in your helmet for the next time El Doucho rears his head.

[Phil]

I hope one of vT's Prof Writing students assisted with writing that new policy :)