Patrick Carlyon: The need for bike controls is plain

Bike people don’t like the idea of bike speed limits at Southbank. It seems unfair, they say. Yet it sounds like a wonderful initiative to the rest of us.

Police launch Operation River Run targeting speeding cyclists and scooter riders along Southbank Promenade. Picture: Mark Stewart

Here comes Mr Fancy Pants. Indigenous to Southbank promenade, he sports more bits than a camping trip, and more bulges than an overpacked plastic bag.

He weaves through the masses on a bike as if he is dodging bogeys in a video game. His expression is grim. He has somewhere to be, and never mind the startled glares.

Mr Fancy Pants is also indigenous to walking paths, such as Darebin Creek Trail, where he scans the obstacles ahead like Terminator in a bikie bar.

Without warning, he whirrs through scooters, dogs, wheelchairs and wayward toddlers, before surging for the 29m of open path ahead.

Bike people don’t like the idea of bike speed limits at Southbank. It seems unfair, they say, especially because bikes don’t boast speedometers. Traffic is minimal during the hibernation of COVID. Why now, they argue? Why fines of $1652?

Yet it sounds like a wonderful initiative to the rest of us.

The need for bike controls is plain. A 2019 study found nine in 10 cyclists rode at more than 15km/h on the promenade.

Any hapless commuter who crosses the strip to and from Flinders Street Station does not need a study to describe the risks.

Senior Constable Craig Johnson on the radar. Picture: Mark Stewart

They must navigate not only entitled male cyclists, and their heinous crimes against fashion, but also the courier cyclist, known as Mr Antsy Pants.

A kind of feral replicate of Mr Fancy Pants, he pedals as if he is delivering urgent organs for surgery.

Mr Antsy Pants’ self-importance defies his pay cheque, which apparently does not cover the cost of deodorant.

What surveys and studies do not measure is how speeding cyclists scare the bejesus out of walkers.

Bike enthusiasts wave findings that show pedestrian collisions have not risen.

There is an awful lot of literature about cyclists, their aggression or lack of it, and the imperative to promote respect between cyclists, drivers and pedestrians.

As cyclists are vulnerable to cars, so pedestrians are vulnerable to cyclists. Where driver education has softened views on cyclists, cyclist education should explore the attitudes of pedestrians going about their everyday business.

What the research has so far not measured is the sudden jolt of playing chicken with a speeding cyclist. Do you go left, right, or stand still and hope?

The perception of risk is not only frustrating, but also perpetuates the historical disdain for cyclists and their perceived sense of entitlement.

Most cyclists, like most car drivers, are not menaces. Any reasonable driver does not begrudge their place on the roads or tracks. Not the mothers with kids strapped on the back. Or dads who have nothing to prove to themselves.

These benign breeds tinkle pedestrians ahead and slow accordingly. They would heed promenade speed limits, mindful that they are only elements in an environment which is not the final stage of the Tour de France.

They are not the reason non-cyclists instinctively reject cyclist grievances. This reflex is a response to Mr Fancy Pants who, apart from speeding, should be held to account for other breaches of the greater good.

Why stop with speed limits at Southbank? Police with speed guns would be a welcome addition at Darebin Creek Trail. There are lots of bushes to hide behind.

What of the unchecked herds of Mr Fancy Pants’ who assume weekend control of Beach Road because their group jaunt is more important than the kilometre of cars banked behind them?

These blokes, and they always seem to be blokes, represent a cycling subset.

Their specialty is myopic self-interest. The law about two cyclists abreast does not apply to them. Two serious accidents, including the death of a pedestrian, have involved cyclists running red lights.

Their outings take precedence over the ordinary people who wonder why the men don’t take their peloton pretensions to places where they need not dodge drivers cased in 1.5 tonnes of metal.

To borrow a line, they are as much a danger to themselves as to the eyes.

They appear to inhabit a world where “PBs” are an ice breaker. Their chatter, usually over a croissant at the cafe they choose to invade at ride’s end, sounds a lot like golfers who prattle about their rounds.

These may be gross generalisations. But if they are to be unpicked, road laws should apply to the cycle clowns who hijack the peace and progress of so many.

Punish them for their smug lack of consideration. To do so would bring greater harmony and care from all.

After all, Mr Fancy Pants is why so many non-cyclists still dislike cyclists.

Patrick Carlyon is a Herald Sun columnist