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A provocative picture graced the front page of The Crimson last week; a biker riding the wrong way down Quincy Street, in full view of a sign reading, "If you can read this sign, you are riding your bike in the wrong direction," I have to cross that street many times a day to get into the Yard, and the times I have almost been blind-sided by a bike are too numerous to count. I peek my head out into the intersection to check for those speed-demon drivers who zoom through intersections. Finding my head intact, and the way clear, I move confidently into the intersection, only to feel the cold rush of air signal the fact that a bike-rider has just pedaled past me close enough to take a hair sample without stretching. And they came from the wrong direction!
But the phenomenon of unruly bikers is not confined to Quincy Street. It is upon entering Harvard Yard that the real game of hit-or-miss begins.
Arriving at Harvard I had no idea that I would be encountering anything worse than Expos. Bikes. More specifically, 28-geared high-tech ultra-light mountain bikes with front and rear shocks and tires with treads an inch deep. Astride this machine of terror rides the Harvard student. We all know how mild-mannered and bookish Harvard students usually are, but on top of these behemoths they become pilots of destruction. I glance behind me in apprehension, and find a bike-riding Harvardian screaming down the narrow Yard paths, no doubt late for his or her "Sex" section. They are willing to crush whatever measly pedestrian dares poke along their path.
Just the other day, I met a victim of such an attack. She had been carefully walking her bike in the Yard, as the law dictates, when she was viciously knocked to the ground by a typically aggressive Harvard biker. Shaken and bruised, she made it to her office cursing the daredevil Yard bikers. I had nothing but sympathy for this Harvard Law School secretary. Bikes are supposed to be walked in the Yard. It's the rule, and it's only fair. Bikers in the Yard put pedestrians at risk.
In San Francisco, where I lived, I sympathized with bikers jeopardized by offensive drivers. And I understand those unfortunate souls who live in the Quad need a way to get to this zip code. But if you're so late for class you can't take the time to walk the last leg of your trip, you're probably too tired to steer your bike accurately.
And in Harvard Yard, where bikers play the same predatory roles as cars do on the streets, pedestrians aren't safe from sleep-deprived Currierites who will stop at nothing to make it to their 9 a.m. section.
I think I have the solution though. When I go back home for Christmas break, I'm going to ship out my bike. It has treads the size of an off-road vehicle, and I bet I could get to class at light speed. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
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