As a college student in transition, I am well aware of the many campaigns that concern themselves with the environment: global warming, pollution, energy conservation and countless other subtopics therein. Whether or not you are an ardent supporter of such campaigns, I would like to inform you of a pressing issue that no environmental organization has addressed. Yes, that’s right, I’m talking about garbage. Not just anywhere, mind you, but garbage <gasp> on the streets!
I am not talking about mere litter; glasses and crumpled coffee cups can be picked up on Earth Day or during Random Acts of Kindness Week. I’m talking about the kind of garbage that is so dirty it doesn’t even belong in garbage cans, it blindsides you on your commute home from work, causing you to swerve to the curb. Garbage thrown at you from unsuspecting car windows, for no apparent reason. Garbage that cannot be picked up, because it is neither physical nor tangible nor describable by any other concrete-sounding adjective.
By now I am quite sure that my illustrious, abstract language has lead you all on a deep and metaphorical journey down my straightforward train of thought to the real issue at hand: harassment. Sexual and physical harassment. It’s got to stop.
In my experience of being a regular bike-rider, I cannot help but notice a dynamic relationship between the level of gas prices and the level of sexual harassment I receive while riding my bike. I have been a bike rider for several years now in my hometown of 65,000 inhabitants. I choose to ride my bike because I do not want to pay for gas, and I need the exercise. 4 months ago, when gas prices were “sky-rocketing” (so claimed many Americans who have never been to Europe let alone ANY other place on this planet), I was considered “cool” and received many thumbs-up signs, pats on the back, and general warm wishes from pedestrians and motorists alike. For the first time in my life I tasted the fruits of fame and popularity, but oh, how quick the spotlight fades. Now that gas prices have been judged “under control” by the masses, I have fallen out of the good graces of my fellow man, err, commuter.
The plain truth is that I have never been so disgusted and humiliated while riding a bike. Three or four times in the last week and a half, I have witnessed obscene ranting and ravings from passing automobiles, ranging from indiscreet sexual jokes to physical put downs. Once, a car full of people sped up to the back of my tire, and creeped past me at a speed sufficient for all passengers to leisurely scream “F*** YOU!!” in their loudest possible voices, before leaving me behind in a trail of dust. I mean, what do you even say to that?! How does one respond to a concentrated effort to swear loudly at an unsuspecting human being?? “Knock it off, guys!” Doesn’t cut it. I did manage to be so stunned that I fell off the bike, warranting various well-wishes from other passing cars in the form of a certain finger.
But please, save your tears. I summon you to action, not pity. Are we really so shallow that our hurtful whims are directly connected to the price of gas? When in word we support humanitarian and environmental initiatives, but in deed care nothing about cultivating an environment conducive to well-being and community? The next time you make a special stop to maliciously insult your two-wheeled friend, or anyone else for that matter, take a good look at yourself in your rear-view mirror. The choices we make on a daily basis affect others more than the money we spend in glorious charities.
So stop leaving your garbage on the streets.
Anonymous