I'm Not Supposed To Be Here

Like Deteriorata, the National Lampoon spoof of the Desiderata poem, apparently I have no right to be here, or at least on the Field Club Trail. (See both poems here)

Friday morning I rode the Field Club Trail to work from Vinton to Pacific. With temperatures in the mid to upper 20s, the pre-dawn ride was very pleasant. It was very dark in some places, and I even came close to oncoming joggers a couple of times, despite having both a solid halogen beam and a blinky LED on my handlebars, I didn't see them. I am sure they saw me, so I wasn't worried about collisions.

To each person I overtook or passed in the opposite direction I gave my cheery, "Good morning!" Most either waved or greeted me back.

As I was approaching Pacific Street, I came upon a man walking a tiny dog. "Good morning," I said in my genuine "it's a great day to be alive" voice. He must have thought I said something else, as his response was a loud:

"You're not supposed to be on here, rapscallion!"

Note, that the word "rapscallion" was not his word of choice. I was called an important part of both the male and female anatomy; a part of significance to cyclists, in that if this particular body part is sore, one cannot enjoy a day in the saddle.

Well, how do I react to this? I just chuckled to myself. The thought that I, while cycling, was not permitted on the Field Club Trail, was preposterous.

I have a fatal flaw. In situations of public rudeness, I always try to imagine why someone would act that way. I always speculate and try to rationalize the behavior. The best I could come up here was:

1. The dog walker thought I was a motorcycle, electric scooter, or some other sort of motorized vehicle due to my bright headlights. I don't ride particularly fast, but perhaps he saw me coming for a half-mile or more, with anger building up by the time I finally passed him. Despite my friendly greeting, he had already worked out what he was going to say to me.
   
   
2. He thought there were some sort of hours of operation that disallowed cyclists on the trail at certain times, perhaps excluding bikes in the pre-dawn hours. I tried to find an online resource outlining trail hours of operation, but could not. I do know that some city parks have operating hours posted prohibiting use between, for example, midnight to 5am. I think these are posted to outlaw overnight parking.
   
   
3. He's loony.

I've written before about how nice gestures overwhelmingly outweigh mean ones. Before the silly smile could leave my face, I came to the intersection of Field Club and Pacific, getting ready to turn right and head up the crazy hill toward the Turner Boulevard Trail. A car heading west on Pacific preparing to cross the trail stopped for me, despite having the right of way. I motioned for the car to come on through, since, you may know, the crossing there is not friendly for bikes with all of the gravel and tire-eating grates spanning the road. I was turning right, anyway and not proceeding along the trail, as the driver may have thought.

The gesture was appreciated, though, and helped to assure me that there are probably more friendly drivers than crazy dog walkers.