Cycling has undeniable benefits. But with such virtues extolled non-stop, cyclists have let it go to their heads. They have become a rude and suicidally reckless horde, seemingly above such trivialities as the law and rules of the road.

— Blackwell,

Myb rot her-in-law calls them “bicycle Bolsheviks,” and utters the phrase with the same kind of bile I imagine Joseph McCarthy invoked when talking about actual Bolsheviks.

He’s referring to the urban cyclists flooding the streets of cities across Canada, and the infrastructure that municipalities are laying out for the benefit of two- wheeled commuters. Yes, the revolution is upon us, and I’m part of it.

But as Trotsky became disenchanted with Lenin, I’ m feeling increasingly alienated from my fellow insurrectionists and the culture that’s grown up around them. Judging from what I hear, it’s a feeling that non-cyclists like Orest, my brother- in- law, feel in spades, as the spoked army weaves and dodges with abandon around the much- maligned motorized vehicle.

Cycling to work has undeniable benefits: it curbs pollution, thins out automotive congestion, and is a source of exercise for a generally overweight, indolent population. But with such virtues extolled non- stop by politicians and certain media outlets, cyclists have let it go to their heads. The result? To a large extent, they have become a rude, suicidally reckless and selfrighteous horde, seemingly above such trivialities as the law and rules of the road.

Meanwhile, municipalities egg on the trend while taking half- hearted steps to make it safe.

In this new world, motorists are usually depicted as the villain. But in my experience, here in Toronto, drivers tend to live in fear — and irritation — of the bicycle, an unpredictable obstacle seemingly intent on colliding with them.

But before readers decry this as a fossil- fuel enthusiast’s rant, consider these facts: I cycle to the office at least four months a year, walking and taking transit the rest of the time. I don’t drive much, but have a car and a driver’s perspective, as well as a cyclist’s. From those vantage points, here are a few ways I see the pedal- pushing revolution going awry: The Right to Die: A car turns right from a main street onto a side street and the driver’s f ocus i s on one thing: the pedestrians crossing the intersection in front of them. They are not looking for cyclists speeding up from behind, swerving in front of them just as they’re about to complete the turn. And yet this happens constantly, cyclists putting their lives on the line in the process. The rules are clear: the car in front turning right has priority; the cyclist has to go around to the auto- mobile’s left or, God forbid, wait a second or two.

This is a specific, though c ommon, e x ample of a broader phenomenon: riders who see car traffic as an obstacle course, assuming drivers will be able to take defensive action should they miscalculate their own daredevil moves.

From what I see of this, I’m surprised there are not many more of those ghostly, white- painted bicycle memorials around town.

Manners!: Almost daily, I watch a cyclist ride up alongside a car and slam his or her palm against a window, make an obscene gesture, or shout epithets at the occupants for seemingly inadvertent — or non- existent — offences. This usually occurs after some deathdefying slalom through traffic went amiss. Drivers do stupid things sometimes, but cyclists cannot expect the rest of the traffic to essentially part and let them t hrough unencumbered. They’re just another vehicle that should be observing the rules.

Even as a cyclist, I’m exposed to the cyclist’s discourtesy. Halted at a traffic light or stop sign, someone will inevitably come from behind and take the opportunity to butt in front of me. Standing in line at the movie theatre or office cafeteria, those individuals would presumably not do the same. Why is it OK on their French-made racer?

The Wrong Lane: If Toronto is any indication, municipalities are spending millions of dollars a year paving the way for the cycling revolution, fitting out the urban landscape with kilometres of what are jokingly called bicycle lanes.

Oh, there are some eff ective bike l anes i n my city, with actual physical separation between car and cycling traffic, and places like Calgary seem to have done a better job. But more often then not, the “lane” comprises bicycle i cons stencilled along the side of the road, inviting an unholy clash between speedi ng, metallic hulks and largely unprotected humans perched on slow- moving, tubular frames. On at least one busy thoroughfare in Toronto, those painted symbols are obscured by cars parked at the curb, giving some idea of what is meant by a bicycle “lane.”

This is dangerous for cyclists, frustrating for drivers, and the kind of inducement to unsafe behaviour that would be a class- action in waiting if it involved a private corporation.

So, what’s my prescription, beyond whining? If governments see cycle commuting as progress, they should build proper, safe, and separated bicycle lanes ( see Amsterdam). Cyclists should have to wear helmets and obtain licences, after proving they know the rules of the road, and face real enforcement for breaking the law. And lastly, the media should stop drawing halos over the bicycle helmet; those who wear them — and the many who go bare-headed — are often no angels.

With all that, I might more gladly declare, “Long live the revolution.”

I DAUB AT A PROUD TEAR THINKING ABOUT SUCH SELFLESSNESS. — COLBY COSH EVEN AS A CYCLIST, I’M EXPOSED TO THE CYCLIST’S DISCOURTESY.