Critical Mass You’re Dead To Me

I’ve always found the concept of “The Greater Good” to be flawed in that the greater good ultimately requires the superiority of goodness in a society over that of it’s members. Ayn Rand would define this same flaw by saying that the good of some takes precedence of the good of others, with those others forced to become scape goats for the greater good itself. That said, I think it’s time Critical Mass sacrifice itself for the greater good of cycling.

I like the idea of clever civil disobedience: Finding ways to inspire others while vilifying injustice. It’s the American way after all, and I think Critical Mass had this in mind at its inception—inspiration through an uproarious challenge of the status quo. And despite the hard truth that anarchy will always fail, Critical Mass has held on for some time as a leaderless, mostly positive agent for bicycle awareness at any cost. But the thing we need to eventually realize is that civil disobedience requires responsibility. Responsibility to make a salient point, responsibility to enact change, responsibility to be civil in our disobedience. Following Friday’s assault with a U-Lock, knives and fists, Critical Mass stopped being civil and turned horribly violent. The driver of the car in question made far too many mistakes to be sure, but he wasn’t met with restraint or intellect, he was met by an angry mob that just may have been all too happy to find a willing victim—the victim being a cartoonish version of automotive evil that personifies the enemy of two-wheeled transportation. Regardless of the driver’s mistakes and poor judgment, getting hit in the back of the head with a U-lock is indefensible. (Would cyclists ignore the crime had the driver hit a cyclist with a tire iron? Doubtful.)

Critical Mass no longer represents anything I want to be a part of. At a time when cycling is finally becoming a desirable, viable alternative mode of transportation, we need to start working with people, not against them. More and more cyclists have the ear of the city and we should be using this momentum to our advantage. I ride on Seattle streets 4 or 5 times a week and this town is pretty tolerant of my presence. Sure, there’s asshole drivers out there but that’s how society works: there’s assholes everywhere, so you need to watch your back. And the bigger question in all of this is: what is Critical Mass really doing to improve the cycling infrastructure of the cities it inhabits?

I’ve ridden in Critical Mass and for the most part the people were friendly, thoughtful and out for a good time and a good cause. (Something like: Hey people in cars! The road is ours too, we pay taxes like everybody else. This road belongs to everybody.) And what’s always strange to me is that it seems the only real gripe I can get out of drivers when I ask them to explain their outright hatred of cyclists is this: all cyclists run red lights. Is that really it? Red light running? Drivers complain that cyclists don’t obey the law and this enrages them? Is it jealousy? I usually follow this statement with a simple question: do you, as a driver of a car, always stay within the law? Do you ever drive 10 miles over the speed limit? Do you ever roll through a stop sign in a residential district? Do you always use your turn signal? Always?

On my bike I obey traffic laws for the most part. I always stop for red lights. Stop signs? Not nearly as much, but I do that in my car too. (I’m from California, we have a special name for that kind of stop.) I speed like everybody else, bike or car. Everybody in traffic pushes the limits of the law, sometimes we get caught most of the time we don’t. So why does the cyclists’ particular scoffing of the law inspire so much hostility?

Riding in Critical Mass and holding up traffic had a certain appeal to it and Dave and I almost attended last Friday before I got wise and watched track racing instead. But I also recently found something much more satisfying than Critical Mass. STP. The Seattle to Portland ride we did a couple of weeks ago was like a Critical Mass ride that stretched from one end of Washington to the other. But here’s the difference: people were happy to see us spinning down the road. Kids hung out in their front yards and cheered us on. One guy sat on his lawn drinking beer with a hose in his hand ready to offer anyone who wanted it a free cold shower (in the 90 degree heat everybody wanted one). Cute old ladies made banana bread and handed it out on the side of the rode. (Okay, perhaps a bit too quaint.) One kid offered lemonade and guitar playing in the shade. It was pretty awesome. And there was no mistake: we were traffic, but we weren’t traffic at the expense of anyone else’s traffic, we just were. In life, the middle path is always the path I try to take. On Friday Critical Mass veered too far off the road for me to continue following it. Hopefully something better will step in and take its place.