Imagine, the Nerve
Earlier this week, I was biking Miles home from school. It was a chilly, but sunny afternoon, and we’d done a wonderful loop through Golden Gate Park. It was one of those impromptu afternoon rides where we met + played with some new-to-us friends who went to their same school. Then we hit up the ping pong table and spinning chairs on JFK Drive, before stopping by a local bakery for a freaking scrumptious poppyseed muffin, and finally making our way up the hill, hill, hilllllls to our home.
So, there I am pedaling, focusing on everything around me with intent; you see, this one block stretch of ninth ave between Irving and Judah truly is more pothole than not. Every bike ride I pass over that block I wonder how the city hasn’t found any spare change to help this piece of road out. I’m bobbing and I’m weaving and I’m dodging potholes and gravel patches while my mind is zooming in and out of the fun we just experienced. In the saddle, I’m doing my best to keep both of us safe, when I notice in my back left blindspot, a car is just… slowly rolling behind us. At first, I assume they are an elderly driver, or a very cautious driver who is giving way more than the three feet required by California law that not many drivers abide by anyways. Then I realize we moved to the next block stretch uphill, and this car is still slow rolling behind me in my blindspot; except now with no other cars around, and there is plenty of room and time to continue on it’s way without our cargo bike blocking their way. Halfway up this next block, I’m like, ok this is getting weird. So, I voraciously wave the person on, even turning my head as much as I can to yell out, “you can go around me, there is plenty of room”, like some sort of encouraging den mother for timid drivers. The driver seemingly ignores me, and keeps on at the same pace to, and through the next stop signs, and on to the next block.
When we reach this point in time, I am now doing a full scan of my surroundings, thinking about ok, where are people in cars, where are pedestrians, where are the people I can yell to if something goes sideways? I don’t know at this point if MK has noticed that I’m on edge now, because they’ve had a long day at school and seem to enjoy nothing more than powering the words down on our rides home. As we reach the fourth block together, this car is just full on creeping me out at this point. I start going through all of ways I can get my kid safely out of a possibly dangerous situation, without scaring the shit out them. Finally, I turn back again, and yell, “PLEASE LEAVE US ALONE AND MOVE ON”.
Reader, the car zooms ahead of us… and pulls over at the next stop sign. My heart is pounding, both from pedaling uphill and from my adrenaline taking note of my BP. My hands are getting sweaty, and I am visualizing how I will take the sidewalk to the left and get the fuck away from whatever is about to go down… when I see the drivers side door start to open. There are a line of cars waiting at the stop sign on the other side now so my sidewalk plan flies itself away, and I’m like, alright… here comes?????????
The driver waits until I’m a few pedal strokes away, as I’m racking my brain to think if I accidentally cut this person off, or they hate cyclists, or kids on bikes, or or or why the fuck they might accost us. So, the driver steps out, and I see it’s a dude who’s around 65, and he’s smiling at me in a kind of forceful way that tells me he wants something from me. I look him right in the eyes, and I don’t look away. I do this, because when I’ve had previous experiences of men taking liberties with my body in this city, without my consent and against my freewill (a butt grab here, a breast pinch there, a full on vaginal over-the-clothes groping as we shared a slice of sidewalk on a broad daylight walk home ten+ years ago (that one was reported and left me shaking for days)), I have found that letting them know I see what they look like and I will commit it to memory, is grounding for me.
I didn’t want my kid to feel this raw fear in me though, so I took a deep breath and in a steady voice I said flatly, “what do you want?”; he put his hand up in a stopping motion and I shook my head, “no!”. I said again, “what do you want from me, I am in the middle of biking my kid right now”. Reader, you know what this human man did to me next… HE HANDED ME HIS FUCKING BUSINESS CARD. Yep. He sure did; turns out he sells garage locking systems, and our bike is a true vehicle and is priced as such. So, I guess this dude’s marketing strategy is to follow women (maybe men too, who knows if this person is discriminatory in their predatory marketing pursuits wheeee!) while they are transporting their young kids home from school, so he can follow them for five blocks in a space where they can’t really see him, nor communicate with him easily, so that he can eventually creep them out enough to get out at a stop sign and offer up his fucking safety and security products he has for sale.
Reader, I kept on pedaling right past him, but you best believe I nabbed that business card. You see, I want to forever remember the name of the garage door security business where our household will never be spending a dime. Y’all stay safe out there, and to all humans everywhere: let’s not be gross and creep on a parent and their child as they move about their day, you know? Or let’s just go ahead and change that to anyone, really. Yeah: don’t creep on anyone. It’s not a good look, ok.