Cars Kill Empathy

 I've received some feedback, saying that this blog is not very positive... Indeed, it is not. 

Today, my roommate took me on a tour of Virginia Beach via big pickup truck. Having now been on the other side of the hood, I can tell you that if it were possible, I feel even more unsafe knowing what goes on in the cab. It has come to my attention that many of the drivers here simply have no idea how big their cars are. They don't know where the end of the pickup is, where the nose of the hood is, or where in the world the right side of the car ends. This results in two scenarios for me on my bike. One, which I am happy to say is more common, is that cars give me an extremely wide berth. Two, which happens four or five times during my commute, is that they pass me way too close. Neither of these scenarios are ideal, as the wide berth means that cars feel they must go faster to avoid being on the wrong side of the road for too long, and the bone-chilling close pass speaks for itself. 

When I was learning how to drive, I distinctly remember my mom telling me that at some point, you just have to trust that other drivers on the road are going to take care of themselves, follow the rules and be responsible. I feel sure that while this is sound advice where I was learning, it is not here. I've mentioned before that I have to cross an 8 lane road on the way to and from work each day. This "road" is called Virginia Beach Boulevard. When I cross it, I must first wait 5 to 7 minutes for the crosswalk signal to begrudgingly beckon me across, then simultaneously look over my shoulder for the right turning cars, and in front of me for the left turning cars (both of which seem intent on killing me). What happened today makes me think that drivers here close their eyes while they are behind the wheel. That, or as I have seen countless times, they are simply on their phones as they operate a several ton machine. 

I had waited for all the right turners to go, and grabbed my chance to get across, I slowly made my way into the intersection, locking my eyes on the cars turning left from all the way across the 100 foot intersection. I waited for one to pass right in front of me, and then continued across. I locked on to the next incoming car, waiting for an indicator that they saw me. Mind you, I wear a yellow safety vest these days when I ride, so the chances of missing me are slim. But not nothing it seems. This car, headed straight for me from across a wide open plain with apparently no thought to my wellbeing or life. They only swerved around me at the last moment, leaving me with the elevated pulse of an animal who had almost been the victim of willful murder. 

Murderers

I was lucky, but so many people are not. When I cross this street, I cannot help but think of the lives that are assuredly going to be lost on the exact path I just rode. In fact I also think of the lives that have already been lost there. My roommate mentioned to me, a story of a man who tried to cross Virginia Beach Boulevard in his wheelchair. My roommate, almost laughing, told me how this guy was clearly crazy, just because he had the audacity to try to cross the street. Apparently he did not use the crosswalk and instead traversed to the grassy median before attempting to cross the next four lanes, where he was ultimately hit and killed. Lets keep in mind that the crosswalks are sparce along this stretch, and as I've mentioned, not exactly a safe haven for passage. 

Whenever I talk to people who live here in Virginia Beach they say things along the lines of what my roommate was saying. Basically insinuating that Virginia Beach Boulevard should be treated as a river of lava, that is only traversable via two ton metal cage. The issue is, they do not seem to see the problem with this. Who cares if some disabled and poor people are killed? Its their own fault for daring to walk, bike, or roll. 

My coworkers (the transportation planners) have also normalized this mindset. In a recent lunchtime field trip to the grocery store, they insisted upon crossing (eight lanes) against the light, wondering why I didn't want to cross to the four-foot median falsely advertising a haven in the middle. Blindness to the issue of extreme pedestrian inaccessibility is a product of total immersion. Even for those who have been educated as transportation professionals, if you've only ever lived in this environment, envisioning an alternative is not only nearly impossible, but often not even desirable. 

My well-meaning colleagues have advised me to find an apartment in the nearby city of Norfolk which has a leg up on Virginia Beach considering it utilizes a grid street plan. The only problem is that getting from Norfolk to my office in Virginia Beach is easier said than done. There is a light rail line that gets about half way there (it would get all the way there, but the delightful citizens of Virginia Beach voted it down), and then it is possible to take a bus the rest of the way. Last Friday I attempted to try this commute in reverse, with disappointing (if not surprising) results. 

It started with a 20 minute wait at the bus stop with my bike. The bus would take me to the light rail station. I noticed that there was a man already waiting there with his bike, and he and I exchanged a nod of comradery. When the bus arrived, there was already one bike on the front rack, and my comrade proceeded to add his to the collection there as well. Now is a good time to mention that there are only two slots on the front of the bus for bikes. I asked the driver if I could bring my bike on the bus to which he said no. As the bus pulled away, leaving me and my bike behind, two thoughts struck me: One, there seems to be a lot of demand for getting to the light rail station with your bike, and two, how am I going to get to Norfolk?

The next bus was not coming for another hour (of course) so I decided I would bike the 20 minutes to the light rail station. What a bold assumption to make, that I would be able to do such a thing. I headed off down the sidewalk adjacent to a six laner, and attempted make my way out of the "town center". The town center is the only grid street system in the whole of Virginia Beach and takes up about a square mile. Between the three mega roads I had to cross, it took me 20 minutes just to get out of the grid (about a quarter of the way there). 

Shopping Cart Warrior

As soon as I was out of the gird, the sidewalk just ended. Not only did it end, but a giant shrub took up any space that would make it possible to continue forward without entering the 45 mph road. At this point I was about ready to give up.  As I stood there and snapped a horrified picture, a man with a shopping cart entered the roadway, and calmly made his way up the block as if this w

ere the most natural thing in the world. Emboldened by his disregard for eminent danger, I followed behind until the sidewalk appeared again on the corner. 

Not ten seconds after I reached the strip of concrete that acts as my shield against speeding cars, did I notice that across the street was once again no sidewalk. Frustrated and defeated, I determined that preservation of my life is more important than getting to Nor
folk. I turned around, nodded good luck to my shopping cart friend, and headed back into VB, feeling more trapped than ever.