As the car hurtled toward me, my life did not flash before my eyes
East Bay Bicycle Path, Rhode Island. Photo by Ken Zirkel by way of a Creative Commons search. https://www.flickr.com/photos/kzirkel/
As the car hurtled toward me, I did not see my life flash before my eyes.
Instead, I saw myself diving off the sidewalk and into the adjoining swamp, where among the sticker vines, sucking mud and empty bottles I would save myself from being stuck like a bug in a grille.
Tires scraped and screeched against the curb and the dithering driver, who wasn’t paying one bit of attention, finally jerked his car back onto the road as my heart threatened to jump out of my chest.
On another day a woman turning into a hair salon nearly flattened me as I jogged along the sidewalk, the dragon’s breath of her SUV blowing hotly across my body as she bolted for the parking lot, completely oblivious to my existence.
And now I read about five bicyclists struck last Saturday on Martin Luther King Boulevard by what appears to be a drunken driver.
How sad … but no sadder than the multitude of other local bicyclists, joggers and pedestrians run down because (a) drivers here seem unable to grasp the concept of sharing the road, and (b) municipal leaders seem unable to grasp the concept of a bicycle path.
Oh, they’ve got a nice path along 30A and in Gulf Breeze you can ride a good ways along U.S. Highway 98. But most everywhere else it’s a crapshoot because bike paths don’t exist, and that’s worse than a shame. It’s a tragedy.
When I visited Germany I was impressed by the number of bicycle paths that paralleled all the major surface roads. In larger cities and parks in this country, bicycle paths are a given.
But here in Northwest Florida it’s every bicyclist, jogger and pedestrian for himself.
Why?
I can’t answer that. But I do know a “bicycle path” is not a white line painted along the shoulder of the road. I’ve seen bicyclists pedaling along those perilous thoroughfares and I’ve cut them a wide berth. But at the same time I’ve seen drivers wander into those “paths” and I wonder what they would do if a bicyclist or jogger happened to occupy that spot during their lapse of attention?
Speaking of attention, when studies suggest a person who operates a motor vehicle while talking on a cell phone has the same driving abilities as a person who’s knocked back a six-pack, why are there no laws forbidding the use of cell phones by drivers? And why are TELEVISIONS allowed in cars?
With gasoline approaching $3 per gallon it would seem logical that some people might turn to walking or bicycling to relieve the pressure on their wallets. But that’s not an option in Northwest Florida. And God forbid a parent allow his or her child to ride a bicycle in the street. On the dragways around town, like Hollywood Boulevard and Hughes Street, a bicycle is a moving target.
Tragedies like what happened last Saturday night might be prevented by a network of decent bicycle paths. That would be the intelligent solution, anyway.
Are we smart enough to do that here?
This column was originally published in the Saturday, April 16, 2005 edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.
About the author:
Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”
Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.
As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.
Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .