Becoming a bike person

Beyond being defined as a college town, a basketball town or a town in which people wear sunglasses the size of airplane windshields, Bloomington could be defined by its bikes. It's not just because of Little 500 -- bicycle commuters are everywhere you go in this town, on every road and in just about every type of weather. Bike-riders are as ubiquitous as BMW-driving guys wearing side-cocked hats that ride four inches off their hair (but they don't defy physics, logic or \nreason).\nLike a lot of students from car-oriented cities, I was always a jerk about bike people. They always seemed such a pain. A lot of people slap stickers on their bikes that say "one less car." Well, for the longest time, I made a concerted effort to drive as often and as fast as possible, regardless of whether or not it was really necessary. I wanted to be "one more (particularly offensive) car." However, it doesn't take a psychic to notice that gas has gotten a bit expensive -- so I decided to join the cycling ranks and start riding to class and the grocery store. It's certainly a new perspective.\nYes, that's right -- I've become the obnoxious asshole holding you up in traffic. The weirdo in ill-fitting clothes whose anemic lower back is indecently exposed and whose right pant leg is either rolled up like a clown's or grease-slopped like a hobo's. However, I've also learned some important things that I wanted to pass on to car-driving Bloomingtonians who might encounter me or any other bike enthusiasts out there.\n1. Pass. Passing is a lot easier and more productive than staying behind and revving your engines. Nature didn't choose to bless most cyclists with pneumatic, cyborg thighs that could let us pedal as fast as the speed limit. And unlike Lance Armstrong, we can't afford miracle drugs. We'll just stick to the right instead.\n2. Look. We're not the size of cars, I know. But we break about 100 times as easily if you blast through a stop sign, and we're in the way. Your dad might totally own a dealership that could fix the resulting dent in your hood -- but, tragically, our dads don't own human factories that can give us new bodies once we've been exploded on your windshield.\n3. For the love of God, stop breaking bottles in the street. I realize this might confuse or surprise, but sharp things put holes in tires. And broken glass has a tendency to be sharp. For some reason, shooting people's tires out while you're drunk hasn't caught on -- but if it did, you'd understand the feeling.\nDon't get me wrong -- roads are designed for cars, and cars will always dominate. However, I can't imagine that bikes are going to go away anytime soon. \nSo maybe, with these tips, we can share a pleasant coexistence. If not, well, I'll just huff indignantly from atop my handlebars. It's what I do best.