Cycling has been my primary form of transport all my life. A bicycle was a great liberation to a free-range urban child in the 1980s, expanding exploration beyond walking distance without the expense of the bus. As a teenager, I – doubtless wrongly – felt much safer on my bike than running the gauntlet of street harassment on foot, especially late at night, and the convenience and independence of the bike was irresistible. There were no bike lanes then. There was less traffic and the cars were smaller and lighter and moving at slower speeds, but still I had near-misses.
Learning to drive made me a better cyclist the way cycling in traffic made me a better driver: in all circumstances, humans are safer when we can see a situation from someone else’s point of view.
As an adult, cycling has given me breathing space between work and family life, exercise on busy days and a cherished, small-scale knowledge of neighbourhoods. I have an abiding horror of being late and cycling gives me control over time and motion – you don’t get stuck in traffic and it’s always the fastest way around the city.
I cycle from suburban to central Dublin several times a week. I am a hypocrite and will not allow my teenager to do the same. I know what it’s like, I say, it’s not safe, take the bus. Sure, he says, I’d rather be on the bus than under it, you do your thing.
Sarah Moss: I cycle to central Dublin several times a week. I’m a hypocrite not allowing my teenager to do the same
I’d rather be in Connemara than anywhere tropical, wearing wellies and a woolly hat
English was never pure or logical. Policing how other people speak is pointless and unattractive
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It rarely feels as if there’s much risk of being under a bus. The bus drivers are usually attentive and careful. The taxi drivers, financially motivated - like cyclists delivering food - to maximise speed and distance, seem to me another matter altogether.
A couple of weeks ago I took my usual route, on which I have the luxury of maximising safety at the cost of time. Unlike a bike courier, I incur no penalty for taking five minutes to increase the chance of being home at the end of the day. (It’s a shame the drivers who accelerate past red lights and across green bike and pedestrian crossings can’t spare five seconds to increase the chance of the rest of us going home at the end of the day.) I go along the canal, where there’s not only a separate bike lane but junctions with separate lights for pedestrians and cyclists, over the cobbles round the back of Google where there are enough cyclists to make it impossible for drivers to forget to look for us, cautiously around the walkers and dancers at the Grand Canal Docks, and then up the river.
I’ve always liked this section. There’s a real, separate bike lane and few pedestrians. It feels metropolitan. There are the big ships, connecting us to the world, and the big river flowing out to all the seas. I notice the ripples and reflections in the water and try to think charitably of seagulls. I think about the film I’m going to see, the friend I’m going to meet, the class I’m going to take.
Until recently, all this came to an abrupt stop as I approached O’Connell Bridge and thought hard and fast about staying alive as I crossed that junction and cycled up towards Temple Bar, weaving around potholes under the noses of coaches and delivery trucks and aggressive drivers, watching out for tourists looking the wrong way, wondering if this was really a good idea. For the last few weeks I could see the lovely new bike lane right there, beside me, still cordoned off by signs funnelling cyclists into danger.
But now, oh happy day, our new pink route is open, and it’s smooth and the sightlines are good and the junctions have been designed by someone who rides a bike and has been to Copenhagen and Amsterdam to see the future. There are still a few blocks of trouble, but at the lights, cyclists congratulate each other on our new safety (this doesn’t happen in Copenhagen or Amsterdam). Now I can think about everything I enjoy about Dublin, almost all the way home. Spring is here, there’s safety in numbers, cycling’s much better for your blood pressure than sitting in traffic and you’ll get there faster. Join us!
Unless your mother says no.
