Angry Farmer in a Pickup Truck wasn’t in his most articulate state, he did shout a few nuggets that gave me an idea of what his problem was. What I’d like to get out of this is reasonable answers to a simple question: Dude, what’s your problem? As I recounted this story over the next few days, nearly every cyclist I spoke to had a similar story. I tell you this not as a precursor to a rant about entitled motorists and their irrational anger toward cyclists, but as a plea to help me understand. We got our wits about us and finished our ride, but the joy of the morning had been sucked dry. It laid bare my vulnerability in that situation. I’ve encountered angry motorists before, but none as furious as this, and none seemingly set off by my mere presence.
I let him shout his bit, and he calmed down enough that I stopped fearing for my life. I told myself to stay calm, and I sat back and waited while he frothed. I rolled my eyes - every cyclist knows an angry motorist when he sees one - and slowed down, mostly to avoid getting run over.
The driver did a U-turn on the highway to confront us, shouting unintelligibles the entire time. The pickup truck approached from the opposite direction and I knew immediately that something was up because the driver-side window was rolled down and I could see a reddening face. A highway ride that didn’t result in an angry farmer. We weren’t riding two abreast, but we weren’t exactly single-file either - we were chatting, which is one of the joys of riding with friends on a Sunday morning. There was no shoulder on the highway so we were hugging the right side. It was a warm and smoky day, and we had pedalled about 50 kilometres when we turned off onto a secondary road. A friend and I were on our road bikes on a rural Sunday morning ride recently on the outskirts of the city.
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