The arrival of these understated Louis Garneau Lathi gloves prompted me to reflect on the contrasting approaches of two riders when it came to condition specific illumination. I’m not calling for legislation compelling us to don day-glow and engage lights during daylight hours since this serves to perpetuate perceptions that cycling and the great outdoors are hazardous by default. Compelling motorcyclists in Scandinavian countries to do just this had a very short-lived effect before they once again became "invisible" to swathes of much larger traffic. Proponents of these and similarly ridiculous measures are myopic to the fact most cyclists are also car owners/drivers, sometimes motorcyclists and truckers too!
The rider pictured blazing a trail through the 4pm December murk couldn’t be more conspicuous (In fact, temptation urged me to draw alongside and ask what systems he was using but didn’t, since in his cleats I’d construe such behaviour as driver harassment). Driving back from assorted quick stop-offs during the sleepy corridor that leads us to the New Year; I was horrified to encounter an arguably more seasoned Cannondale rider with literally zero illumination. Any of us can (and probably have) been caught out by a snagged dynamo wire, expiring lead-acid battery or similar act of god but to find him bereft of even the thinnest slither of Scotchlite, let alone contingency blinkies at half-past dusk stops short of reckless. Most micro LEDs are visible from around two hundred and fifty yards, often more but driving at 40mph in 60mph zone and with unhampered vision, I only noticed him at forty yards. What if my approach had been more cavalier or my reactions/senses hampered in some way?
Cyclists and similarly “minority” traffic take disproportionate “stick” from various lobby groups as it is and the majority of us keep our houses very much in order but these incidents are precisely what gives credence to buck passing us n’ them pressure groups’ cries for greater anti cyclist legislation.
Unfortunately too many careless, uninsured and sometimes unlicensed/inebriated vehicle operatives walk away from court with a few casual nods of remorse to the judge. The mighty little blinky cost next to nothing, doesn’t detract from the sleekest steed and may be the difference between a warm soak in the tub with the rides’ highs lows swooping through your consciousness or a cold, clinical mortuary slab. Stuff ‘em in your sack.
Happy New Year!
The rider pictured blazing a trail through the 4pm December murk couldn’t be more conspicuous (In fact, temptation urged me to draw alongside and ask what systems he was using but didn’t, since in his cleats I’d construe such behaviour as driver harassment). Driving back from assorted quick stop-offs during the sleepy corridor that leads us to the New Year; I was horrified to encounter an arguably more seasoned Cannondale rider with literally zero illumination. Any of us can (and probably have) been caught out by a snagged dynamo wire, expiring lead-acid battery or similar act of god but to find him bereft of even the thinnest slither of Scotchlite, let alone contingency blinkies at half-past dusk stops short of reckless. Most micro LEDs are visible from around two hundred and fifty yards, often more but driving at 40mph in 60mph zone and with unhampered vision, I only noticed him at forty yards. What if my approach had been more cavalier or my reactions/senses hampered in some way?Cyclists and similarly “minority” traffic take disproportionate “stick” from various lobby groups as it is and the majority of us keep our houses very much in order but these incidents are precisely what gives credence to buck passing us n’ them pressure groups’ cries for greater anti cyclist legislation.
Unfortunately too many careless, uninsured and sometimes unlicensed/inebriated vehicle operatives walk away from court with a few casual nods of remorse to the judge. The mighty little blinky cost next to nothing, doesn’t detract from the sleekest steed and may be the difference between a warm soak in the tub with the rides’ highs lows swooping through your consciousness or a cold, clinical mortuary slab. Stuff ‘em in your sack.Happy New Year!
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