Cyclists vs. Cars: What if We Were the Problem?

The cohabitation between cyclists and motorists sometimes resembles a poorly arranged flatshare: everyone has their habits, their certainties, their quirks, and above all… everyone is convinced they are the most reasonable occupant of the apartment. As often, we like to point out what motorists do wrong, and, let’s be honest, they often do it very wrong.

But a question deserves to be asked calmly, without tension, almost with tenderness: what if we, cyclists, were not the patron saints of soft mobility that we sometimes like to imagine?

By Jeff Tatard – Photo: @jefftatard

The opening car door: national trauma… but what about our zigzags?

Let’s start with the classic of classics: the car door that opens without warning. Yes, it’s dangerous, yes, it’s unacceptable. No debate there.

But we must also admit that, if we replayed our daily commutes with an onboard camera, even with Oakley Meta screwed onto our noses, some would look more like a Ninja Warrior casting call than a demonstration of fluid riding.

Who hasn’t attempted that little feline sprint to weave between two stopped cars, with the same confidence as if the bike were 12 centimeters wide?

Who hasn’t turned a line of vehicles into a giant slalom course because “there’s plenty of room” when, honestly, there was plenty of room only in our enthusiastic minds?

Not to mention the great classic: staring at the motorist’s rearview mirror to try and guess their next maneuver from their expression… while veering exactly half a meter to the left at the same moment. The famous safety check that produces the opposite effect of what was intended.

In short, when the car surprises us, it’s a scandal. When we surprise the car, it’s… agility. The bias is clear.

The cyclist, that animal convinced that a 12 cm space is equivalent to a highway

The red light: authoritarian symbol or simple light signal?

We tend to assert that the city should be favorable to us, that red lights are sometimes absurd, poorly timed, too long, useless.

The problem is that often, we consider them… suggestions. Not all of us, not all the time, but enough for motorists to sometimes look at us like a parent facing a child who denies having finished the jam jar when they still have some on their cheeks.

The light turns red. We cast a furtive glance. Nothing is coming. We move forward.

With that little quick pedal stroke of the cyclist pretending it wasn’t really a light, but rather a negotiable colored indication.

Then, a minute later, we are indignant that a motorist doesn’t respect the rule.

It’s hard to preach morality with fingers still full of jam… and that little guilty look we all know.

Riding two abreast: a noble practice, but not always diplomatic

Riding side by side is pleasant. It allows for conversation, sharing, breathing. And in many cases, it’s legal.

But on a narrow street, behind a car that has been following us for 800 meters without daring to overtake, this noble practice quickly turns into a professional irritant.

Especially since, when you’re two abreast, there’s always the one whose legs are a little less good and who says: “No, but go ahead, I’m fine here, I swear” while clearly not being fine at all, but not ready to drop the conversation about the club’s next ride.

We might say: “Yes, but we have the right.” That’s true. But having the right doesn’t always mean making the right choice. Cohabitation isn’t about jurisprudence: it’s about common sense.

Earbud in the ear, phone on the handlebars… modern life

We complain, rightly so, about motorists distracted by their smartphones.

But who hasn’t encountered a cyclist (or been that cyclist) with:

  • an earbud screwed into one ear,
  • the phone also on a handlebar mount displaying Google Maps,
  • the Garmin on the side,
  • Guillaume Pley’s podcast, Bac à sable or Bistrot Vélo in the background,
  • and a micro-hesitation at each intersection worthy of a modern choreography?

Meanwhile, behind, a car wonders: “Did he hear me? Did he see me? Is he going to turn left in a poetic but unpredictable way?”

Let’s be honest: if we never saw cyclists do that… we’d ask fewer questions.

The only place where we respect the rules… until we forget

Cycle paths: protected terrain… or space of total freedom?

We demand, and rightly so, that cycle paths be respected. We yell when someone blocks them. We complain when a motorist puts two wheels on them “just for a minute.” We don’t even internally say hello to scooters that encroach on them anymore. But at the same time…

We sometimes transform these paths into a multi-purpose space:

  • wild overtaking,
  • improvised U-turns,
  • sudden stops to disable GPS power-saving mode,
  • or that famous moment when you change direction just to avoid a puddle as if it were acid.

In summary: we want impeccable paths, but we are not always impeccable on them.

What if cohabitation required us to accept looking in the rearview mirror?

Of course, there are irresponsible, blind, aggressive, dangerous motorists. Of course, the city is still largely designed for them. Of course, certain infrastructures force us to take risks that we would prefer to avoid.

But if we want to be credible, heard, respected, perhaps we must accept that cohabitation is a fragile balance… in which we participate as much as they do.

What if we stopped seeing ourselves as the misunderstood heroes of urban travel and recognized that, sometimes, we’re a bit annoying too?

3bikes Charter of the Imperfect Cyclist (but full of good will)

Because we all want to save the planet, not motorists’ patience.

  • We admit to having run a red light “technically dark orange,” because there was no one there… except a pigeon who, for its part, respected the code.
  • We admit to having ridden two abreast to discuss an obviously vital topic, forcing a car behind to rediscover sophrology.
  • We admit to having cut off a car’s trajectory, thinking our intention was clearly readable in our very approximate cycling aura.
  • We admit that surprises are great for a birthday, much less so when it comes to our improvised change of direction without a human turn signal (also called an “ambiguous shoulder shrug”).
  • We admit that demanding respect implies being at least predictable… or even a tiny bit readable.

Conclusion: what if we really moved forward together?

The question is not who is right or wrong. The question is how to make the road calmer, clearer, more pleasant for everyone.

If we want motorists to respect us more, perhaps we should start by recognizing that we are not always irreproachable. Not to flagellate ourselves. Not to “balance the wrongs.” But to recall a simple truth: cohabitation is not a match. It’s a shared effort.

And if we could add a little humor, a little restraint, a little lucidity… then perhaps the road would be less of a battlefield, and more a space where we can breathe better.

After all, we are all pedaling in the same landscape.

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=> Cyclists on the road: what do the rules say

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