As cyclists sharing road space with traffic, it often feels as though we’re locked in an eternal struggle to access the serenity that should be intrinsic to riding a bike. This isn’t anyone’s fault, in particular. Motorists have the right to be there after all, and that’s a moot point anyway because they’re not going away any time soon.
This may not be your experience. Depending on which country you live in and even which part of it, the only struggle you might recognise in your own riding is when you’re pushing hard up a steep climb. Rural France, or even Norfolk in the UK, in my own limited bike-based travels, offer the cyclist a relatively untroubled passage and the so-called ‘war on the road’ can seem a world away.
James Shrubsall
Having been at Cycling Weekly for over two decades, and cycling a little bit longer, James is in a good position to tell you what’s good and what isn’t in the world of bike riding.
However, in the UK’s London-adjacent home counties, the same can’t be said. Crowded roads, big cars and busy people don’t leave a lot of room for the cyclist trying to enjoy a bit of fresh air. Add to that a ‘helpful’ sat-nav and you’re no longer even immune in the rural lanes.
As someone who finds themselves riding off the tarmac more often than on it these days, I’m probably more wary of traffic than ever – one of the unfortunate side-effects of becoming used to long periods of riding away from cars, for me at least.
Even in the lanes, there’s a certain amount of tension at the noise of a car approaching from the rear that only dissipates once it is safely by. I rarely use the bigger ‘A’ or ‘B’ roads, and when I do it’s only when necessary and I get off them as soon as possible.
However, there is one scenario for which I’ve found a very effective soothing balm, and it’s one that often makes me think I was way too belligerent in my younger years. I just wait. When the traffic begins building up behind me, even if it’s just a couple of cars, I’ll freewheel in and through the next layby or suitable driveway and let them go by. Then I carry on my way, often accompanied by a wave of gratitude from the passing drivers.
It’s slightly slower than ploughing on regardless, but it’s a sight less stressful. Most of all, there is none of the close-passing that I have often found result from these situations – not from the car immediately behind, but from the one behind that, whose driver has become frustrated at the hesitancy of the one ahead and taken it out on the rider, often accompanied by an angry toot and hand gestures. This has happened so often it’s become depressingly predictable.
But the act of pulling into the side – into a safe space of course, not just halting at the kerb – and letting the traffic go by takes all that frustration away. I appreciate there will be many reading this whose reaction will be to ask why on earth any cyclist should have to cower from traffic at the edge of the road, just so a driver can get somewhere a minute sooner, and I’m not unsympathetic. Twenty years ago I’d have thought exactly the same.
It’s also not a technique that works particularly well for riding in groups, except in extreme circumstances, because you have to communicate the idea to everyone, find a big enough spot and make sure you all manage to pull into it without incident. But in groups the safety imperative isn’t as pressing either – drivers are less likely to squeeze by with another car approaching from the front, because it’s often not possible.
In truth, this is something I do for me and my peace of mind, rather than something I do for those waiting behind. But I also see it as an element of that compromise – that ‘living with each other’ – that we all seek and talk about often when discussing sharing the road. And that friendly exchange that often results means I get to ride on with a small smile. I like it, and I’d recommend it to anyone.
