What is the one thing in the Netherlands which outnumbers human beings? Cows? Sheep? Close – the answer is bicycles. It is admittedly the easiest and most convenient form of transportation, from grocery shopping to bringing the kids to school to making that quick getaway from a pursuer on foot. In fact, the image of a Dutch person merrily cycling along a random dijk is the very epitomy of all that is true and Dutch. Any self respecting person in this lovely country has upwards of one bike, and loves it to bits.
Except I don’t own one. And I definitely don’t love bikes. Don’t look at me with that “omg-she’s-so-not-integrated” look either. I love kroketten, stamppot and pea soup, which is more than a lot of Dutchies can say. I just hate bicycles and they hate me. This mutual revulsion was discovered early on in my childhood, when my well-meaning dad tried to get me on at the tender age of five. Mindful of all the falls and skinned knees, when I could choose if I wanted to ride a bike, I chose no freaking way. Don’t get me wrong, I can ride. I just don’t want to. And watching how people ride bikes in this country, I’m sure I’ve made the right choice.
I’ve been told that cyclists are taught and expected to follow the same road rules as motorists do. I call bullshit. People on bikes do not give a damn about the road, pedestrians or anyone else. Who else can get away with riding in the wrong direction, squeezing in through traffic and completely ignoring traffic lights? I’ve had people pushing their bikes onto the junction as far as their front wheel, and then stopping and looking expectantly at me. Why bother stopping at all, Your Royal Highness? I can’t get past your bike and you know it. Please, go ahead while I screech to a halt on a road where I have the right of way. Don’t worry about me, I’m sure my heart will calm down, eventually.
Boy, do bicycles make me nervous. Driving in a big city with narrow roads with tons of people on bikes on all side of me leaves me twitching and in tears. People appear out of nowhere, and then glare at you if you dare to get in their way. A motorist can show his intimidating horse power on the highway, but all drivers turn into little mice when confronted with the almighty cyclist. They have the right of way in any situation and they know it, fuck those little pictures they show you at driving tests. A cyclist could be riding in the dark, without lights on, wearing dark clothes, texting, iPod at full blast, all the while riding on the wrong side of the road, but as a motorist, if you hit him, it’s your fault. Un-freaking-believable.
So, now, both bicycles and cyclists scare me. It is all the driving aggression that Dutch people have, combined with their self-righteous attitude because the road, obviously, belongs to them*. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I will never ride a bicycle in this country. I would be too shit scared to even pedal off, let alone ride to the store or daycare. I can never be that intimidating Dutch pedalist and I’d like my bones unbroken at the end of the day, thanks. Call me “allochtoon” all you want. It ain’t happening.
* This is an absolute fact. I’ve experienced more road rage here than anywhere else I’ve ever driven, except maybe in NYC. People with big cars flash, beep and tailgate if you are in their way, and it is the businessmen in their Audi’s and BMW’s that are the worst of them all. I have become more aggressive myself, just to survive.
The Bleater 