Maybe I Should Just Ride My Big Wheel In The Driveway...

I got yelled at by an old man today.

He was 70. He told me so.

It happened along a stretch of Milwaukee County's Oak Leaf bike trial in Franklin. I had met my nemesis earlier, under more friendly auspices, as he and I went in opposite directions this bright, sunny, unseasonably warm afternoon.

He stood out in my mind for several reasons--first, it was obvious that, despite his age, he was spry enough to still be active. Good for you, I thought. I hope I'm able to do what you're doing when I reach your stage in life.

He was also one of the few who acknowledged my presence--one of my biggest bugaboos about the trail is the general lack of friendliness among fellow users. I say "hi" or bob my head to everyone I encounter, not looking for a dinner invite or a hot, passionate kiss. Just a little common courtesy. Civility.

A few bob back.

Some smile.

More than plenty treat you like a ghost.

Others give you looks that suggest, "Go away, creep", "No speak English" or "One more word, and I'm going for the mace."

So it was a pleasant surprise when I noticed my old friend again, after I'd completed my loop and started heading home. He was 30 or 40 yards ahead of me when I recognized him, baseball cap perched jauntily on his head, legs pumping steadily.

I clicked my gears once or twice as I do when I approach someone, and then passed on the left.

"Arr, Arr, Arr, aaaaaa...ight!" is what I thought I heard him say, his voice trailing off in the distance.

Hmmm. That sounded like something more than hello, I thought.

I slowed. He kept jawing. It became obvious he no longer wanted to be my friend.

"Let people know when you pass," he cried. "You almost hit me!"

Truth is, it wasn't close...not by a damn side, even though he wasn't nearly as far to the right of the path as he could've been. My other bugaboo--people who act as if their name is "Oak Leaf Bike Trail" and they own all that is in front of them, as well as on both sides.

"f you stay to the right, you won't have to worry about getting hit," I shot back, thinking that would be the end of it.

I was well ahead of him by now, but he wasn't done. I could hear him barking away, obviously pissed and wanting to engage.

I stopped, got off my bike, and said, "What the hell is your problem?"

As he rolled by, he told me, "I'm 70 years old and I've been riding 15."

"That's great. I'm happy for you. I hope you ride for a long time," I said.

He replied, "If you hit me, it's a felony!"

I assume he meant hitting him on the path while riding. I sure as hell wasn't going to slug the old timer, altho running the grumpy old bastard off the road was starting to sound like a community service.

Then, I had to ask.

"By the way, do YOU have a horn?"

"Beep Beep" he said, and kept rolling by.

"Nice," I said, getting back on my bike.

By now he was ahead, so, inevitably, I had to pass him again.

"Here I come," I yelled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm passing you on the left. Do you hear me?!?"

And pass him, I did, as he kept muttering away.

I completed the ride, feeling small and stupid for engaging, and wondering just what the rule was. I NEVER had ANYONE say ANYTHING to me when passing me on the trial--the same guy went by me three times that very afternoon, saying "hi" each time as he left me in his dust in his best Tour de France spandex.

I got home, hopped off the bike and hit "the Google" for "bike path etiquette." Every page, from every part of the country, even our very own Milwaukee County, said the same thing.

My 70 year old antagonist was right.

Those doing the passing are to say "on your left" well in advance of the people they're about to leave in their wake. Give them time to move, or even slow, so you can complete your pass faster.

Mea culpa, my elderly friend. You may be grumpy, but you were right. I was wrong. I'm officially schooled in the ways of the road.

And, still way embarrassed.