Share the Road

OK.  This is for all you bicycle riders out there.

We need to Share the Road!  Yeah, I know that a lot of you have got the bumper sticker that says just that but too many of you ignore it.   You take up half the road, run red lights, and don't stop when you should.   You  act like you own the road.   You seem to forget that we are calling for everyone to SHARE the road.   That means us too.

The laws of the state of Tennessee protect us, but they also tell us how to behave when we take our two-wheeled vehicles on the roads.   Like staying to the right side of the road.  And pulling over at the first safe place if 5 or more vehicles are backed up behind us.   Letting cars and trucks know our intentions by using hand signals.

One of the things I do a lot is tell stories.    One of my favorite stories happened almost 38 years ago.  I promise you I'm not embellishing this story--it's good enough to stand on its own.

I was home from college and my summer job had been interrupted by a union strike at the factory where I worked.   I had turned to farming and yard work.

On this particular day, I had been raking hay for Linda Gail Smith on her farm near Philadelphia, Tennessee.  Toward the end of the day, she wanted me to take the tractor into town for repairs.   Back then, Highway 11 through Loudon was a primary route south for much of Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan.

There was one fairly long stretch along Highway 11 where I didn't have room to move my slow-moving tractor off the road and allow cars to pass.   A long line of cars had formed behind me.

At the first opportunity, I pulled off to the side.

Let me paint the picture here.   It was 1974.  A football player who was a weight room regular, my preferred farm clothing was overalls, a sleeveless shirt, a battered cowboy hat, and (yes, admittedly) a cheek full of Red Man. And always several days growth of beard.

On this particular day, I was dirty, sweaty, and tired.  As soon as I pulled off, two "hippies" (long hair, beads, what later became known as John Lennon glasses) pulled over sharply in front of me, jumped out of their lead sled (if old enough, you will remember the type--oversized, big wings on the back), and came back to...oh, I don't know...maybe just to chat.

They weren't real big but they obviously thought that the two of them had the odds on me.

I had spent a lot of time on that tractor and knew it well.   I also knew without looking that just at my left hand was a tool box with a ball peen hammer n it.  Grabbing the hammer, I killed the engine on the tractor but just before it idled down, I popped the clutch. 

Just as that tractor lurched at those boys, I jumped off the tractor with the hammer in my hand.   It must have been their worst nightmare--a big ol' country boy, looking rough and, yes, a bit tough, telling them (in so many words) that they best get back in their vehicle and move on down the road.

Rather quickly, they hopped back in their car, spun their tires, and never looked back.  

My point?   We are on these roads together.   Just like I will insist on my right to ride my bicycles on roads, expecting (and hoping) that cars respect my rights, those of us on bicycles need to respect the rights of those traveling our roads in motorized vehicles.

To fail to do so is pretty dumb, wouldn't you say?