Last night I did something incredibly risky. I biked home from the beach.
I am no notice cyclist, but biking home along Pacific Blvd at 2am with a hibachi strapped to my painer rack seemed more of a death wish than a green commuting option. The bike path along this point of Pacific is a painted lane on the shoulder of the road. Under normal circumstances, this seems entirely adequate, but in the middle of the night, after the bars let out, a painted line and my helmet offered little protection against a tonne of steel.
To exasperate the problem, casino vans were double-parked in the bike lane, forcing cyclists into the main traffic lane. We were left competing for asphalt with drunken fools driving far too fast in their quest to get out of the city. My roommate and I eventually moved to the sidewalk to avoid the pimped out Civics weaving in and out of the bike lane.
This experience left me with a visceral understanding of the need for separated bike lanes.
