Check your vehicular privilege

I have a peculiar history when it comes to being a ‘road user’. I actually had my first go in the drivers’ seat of my mum’s Smart 4x4 before I learnt to ride a bike: aged 16, an embarrassing race against time in preparation for a school trip to Rendlesham Forest. The go in the car happened just a few months prior, in a field just opposite where I learnt to cycle. Of course, I got the hang of the bike a bit quicker than the car; I would be 19 before I could drive with a full license. But then cycling was metaphorically resigned to the back seat, to cycle hire romps and Santander Cycles.

Meanwhile, I drove up the various arterial spines of the UK and, clips in multi-story car parks aside, it was all very comfortable. I took up cycling again last summer as a distraction, and, finally riding on routes I’d rode to death in the car, I realised the difference. For the first time in years, I was afraid to use the road. Why?

Cycling has been, for the best part of the last century, a niche pastime; relegated to those health nuts, eco-warriors or sods who just couldn’t afford a car. The class structure of the United Kingdom, worked into transport – just as had been done before, with buses and trains on either side of this stark divide. Nowadays, the differences are more subtle. Cycling is once more being handed metaphorical stabilisers up and down the country as it gradually becomes more popular. Meanwhile, the car is vilified for normalising sedentary lifestyles and polluting our planet. From Guildford to Leatherhead to Virginia Water to anywhere else in Surrey, the local upper-middle classes are upset that their Range Rover’s omnipotence is in question. The thing is, despite the fact that modes of transport besides the car are not only encouraged but subsidised, the norms surrounding their use haven’t changed for ages. There’s a wonderful range of disparities at play; disparities I’d like to call Vehicular Privilege.

Privilege no. 1: A bicycle isn’t the same shape as a car

The Highway Code is a confusing beast. It gives a lot of guidance on a lot of things (among others, claiming pedestrians should dress up in high-vis whenever it’s dark, and flashing drivers is literally never allowed). What it doesn’t bother to explain is how much space cyclists are actually supposed to be afforded – except that they’re entitled six feet when you overtake them, just like with any other road vehicle. This is fine, but the problem is that quite often, for one reason or another, you can’t overtake a cyclist. There are situations where a cyclist needs to change lanes or turn right (left in the E.U / U.S) where they require the full berth of the road, instead of being relegated to the very edge of the highway.

The weird thing about this is that this behaviour, i.e. using all of the road space, angers other road users. Some are inclined to undertake when cyclists hang right. Others simply sound their horn. Of course, both of these actions are illegal, whereas a cyclist using the entire lane is not. The ire is usually backed up by the idea that cyclists are much slower than, say, a motorbike, which, despite being the same size as a cycle, is entitled to an entire lane. Another argument might go, well, cyclists weave through traffic when things get busy; that’s them exercising their unique small size. Why should they be entitled to an entire lane in any instance? Why can’t they weave around cars in any case? Well…

Privilege no. 2: A bicycle doesn’t offer the same support to the rider as a car

This much is obvious. If you get undertaken in a car, the worst that could likely happen is a scratch in your paint. If someone catches you on a bike, however, you could spin off into the road and die. This is an age-old concept; drivers often forget they’re in a “big metal box”. This same disparity applies when motorists or cyclists have to stop. Cyclists are often criticised for not stopping at lights or taking risks. While some of these cyclists are doubtless bad eggs, there’s a further reason as to why cyclists are eager to keep on keeping on: preserving momentum. When a car has to slow down, the only real deficit to the driver is the fuel used in getting it back up to speed. Additionally, the danger to pedestrians and other road users if a car jumps a light are far greater. If a cyclist does so, they save energy and frequently harm no one. This leads into the third case:

Privilege no. 3: Once learned, a car is far easier to ride than a bike

Driving a car is very rarely physically exhausting, unless you’ve been going for hours and your seat’s a bit chafe-y. Cycling is a completely different beast; especially for the occasional cyclist, a bit of a hill can be a hopeless endeavour. This is why it can be unfair for motorists to criticise cyclists travelling at low speed given that they can literally accelerate at the push of a pedal. This isn’t to say that all motorists should be happy to sit behind a slow cyclist; part of being a good cyclist is knowing when to move over and let people pass. But this offer should be reciprocal; when a cyclist needs to move into the middle of the road, they should be able to indicate and then move across freely, without inciting the ire of all other vehicles in a mile radius.

Some caveats for a conclusion

Of course, this piece ignores some of the privileges innate in learning to drive a car; the economic costs and time spent acquiring both a provisional and a full driving license. However, many cyclists chose such a mode of transport because a car would be uneconomical. It’s also often the case that this funny old vehicular privilege is transient; cyclists are often young people, on lower incomes; motorists are frequently the opposite. While the Highway Code shouldn’t be turned into the gravy boat for this discontent – to do such a thing would alienate motorists and cyclists alike – it ought to make a point of explaining and identifying cyclists’ rights more clearly, as well as identifying the reciprocal relationships between cyclists and motorists, just as we already do with pedestrians. Unless we offer more rights to cyclists that acknowledge the unique disadvantages they receive when using the road, we will continue to suffer the flaws of the status quo: an endless bickering based on a misunderstanding of what is and isn’t okay. So, next time you’re caught out with a cyclist, check your mirrors – and maybe check your privilege too.

Note: after I wrote this piece, I realised an American man by the name of Stewart Sallo of Boulder, Colorado, had already coined the term "vehicular privilege". You can read his piece, which mirrors a lot of the sentiment of this one, here.