Road bike riding has a very intricate set of rules and cultural mores, and nothing is more political than passing another rider. The rules of passing insist that the only legitimate reason to pass is when a person is going at a slower speed than you are going. It is purely a utilitarian transaction, and should have nothing to do with wanting to best another person. To speed up to pass is shameful, and there is no greater shame than slowing down after passing. Technically, no one should even notice this taking place, as if two bikes are in separate universes each traveling at their own speed.
However, the real world of cycling seldom matches this platonic ideal, and riders pass for a number of physical, emotional, and psychological reasons. Like it or hate it, passing establishes dominance, and as much as I would like to be completely zen about it, I feel better on a day that I pass people that a day that I am regularly passed.
All of this was going through my head when I felt someone coming up on me during my ride today. As I said earlier, it is wrong to speed up to pass, but it is likewise wrong to speed up to avoid being passed. So I maintained my speed (maybe at the optimal speed that I would like to be traveling) but the other bike kept moving closer. As I glanced backward I was certain that this particular bike and this particular person should not be able to pass me, so I figured the other rider was pressing and a few miles of steady speed should finish him or her off.
However, after several miles, I was not able to shake her ( I knew it was a her by this time) and she kept gaining on me, again with a bike that should not be able to pass me. Finally, I decided that game should recognize game, and I moved to the right to let my relentless pursuer pass, a woman about my age, but with no bike gear and on a bike that looked not much more than a beach cruiser.
As she passed, barely noticing me as she did, I glanced at the wheels of her bike, and then I saw it, the telltale thick rear axle, and all became clear. I had been passed by an electric assist bike.
Let me be clear, I DESPISE electric assist bikes and those who ride them.
I’m sure there are those who are protesting, “But these bikes allow people who wouldn’t be able to get out the opportunity to exercise,” (though since Christmas I have seen a sickening number of children with them). I’m sure this is true, and I suppose there are some people who own these monstrosities who are not evil to the core. Heck, I actually have friends who own then, a couple who are otherwise good people, who love their children, and don’t belong to any satanic cults (that I know of). Electric bike apologists probably outnumber persons like me.
But at their heart, they are a perversity, and to welcome them into the ranks of bicycles is a bridge too far. Like their distant relative the moped, they are essentially motorcycles (as they are cycles with motors). The most recent plague of these things even have fat tires like a scooter. They do not belong on bike trails and no one who rides them should ever classify himself or herself as a bike rider, for she or he is a passenger, and little more.
This becomes particularly problematic for passing, as there is no integrity to the pass and no merit. Yet the smug looks I have seen by these assist-ants have the grace of a trustfund tweeker, bragging about making it through the sweat of his brow. Passing with an electric assist bike is stolen valor. It would be like a casual runner claiming six minute miles and not mentioning the skateboard.
I suppose that technology marches onward, and as long as these nightmares are legal, I guess I won’t put out an elbow while they pass. But please, please stop calling them bicycles…and put baskets in front and streamers on the handles.