Bike Noob

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Who Are You? No One Will Know Without ID

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Guest poster Jeff Hemmel looks at two different types of ID for cyclists to carry.

When a Tour de France rider goes down, chances are a support car is close behind. But when you or I go down, especially if we happen to be riding alone, proper ID is essential in order to get help, have our friends or family contacted, even alert first responders to any medical concerns. I used to never worry about it. Then I started stuffing a scrap of paper with my home number into the back pocket of my jersey. Now, like countless other riders, I actually wear one of the commercially available ID bracelets available.

There are two popular forms of ID on the market — Road ID and Xtreme Sports ID. Road ID comes in various forms. The standby Road ID Sport is a nylon web wristband, although a more upscale rubber wristband with watch-style closure, dog tags, and even shoe and ankle IDs are available. Xtreme Sports ID is like the ubiquitous Livestrong wristband, a molded silicone rubber band pulled over the hand.

Road ID

In classic form, Road ID allows the buyer to display virtually anything they want (the obvious name, birth year, contact telephones, and blood type are suggested) on a laser-engraved stainless steel plate. An “interactive” version allows two lines of user-selected text, and then refers first responders to a toll-free number and website, where a variety of personal information can be recorded and accessed via a personal code on the back of the plate.

Xtreme Sports ID

Xtreme Sports ID takes a simplified version of the latter approach, including a toll-free number and personal code sunk into the wristband itself, which can be used to access the wearer’s personal information in the Xtreme Sports database.

Both databases are pretty easily negotiated. Filling in your info is like filling out a simple form. Xtreme Sports adds an additional feature in that wearers can record a “where I plan to ride” note, and have it sent to three personal contacts each time it’s updated. Xtreme Sports ID’s $9.95 purchase price includes one year of service free. Renewal fees are $5 annually. Road ID’s $19.95 price for the Sport Interactive includes one year of service; subsequent years are $9.99. Road ID lets first responders call the phone number or access the website for info; Xtreme Sports keeps the website just for the user to record personal info, and furnishes info to emergency personnel by computer voice.

I have both an Xtreme Sports ID and Road ID (blog-police alert, I received both for review purposes in my so-called “real” job). And I like each ID for different reasons.

I think one of the primary advantages to Xtreme Sports ID is its simplicity. The rubber bracelet doesn’t stay damp, doesn’t need a form of closure, doesn’t take on odors, etc. Xtreme Sports ID is limited, however, in that it requires a phone call to get even the most basic information.

In contrast, the basic Road I.D. is a nylon web band. It will stay damp when wet, and as anyone who has ever owned a nylon web strap watch will attest, will begin to smell over time. A simple wash with soap will solve the problem, but it does require a little more maintenance. I like, however, that your basic info — like name, year of birth, numerous emergency contacts, and blood type — can all be immediately presented. Even the interactive version, with its accompanying website and toll-free number, allows several lines of user-selected text.

Which do I like better? I like the concept of the Xtreme Sports ID – a simple rubber band. I can put it on and literally forget about it. But I prefer how Road ID immediately offers up the basic info – who you are, and who to contact first. I also like the many options of Road ID. I can have a dog tag, an ankle bracelet, or even a fancier style rubber band and closure that won’t get damp and smell like the basic is prone to over time.

What about you, do you wear ID? And if so, which do you prefer?

Is Cycling Dangerous?

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Our friend Don Blount got some bad news last week: In addition to a broken wrist from a fall during his first century ride, it turned out that his arm was broken, too.

Don had surgery on the arm Friday, and says it went well, but he’ll be off the bike for six to eight weeks while he heals.

That gives him time to do some thinking. He’s been thinking about his second major crash in the last nine months, and breaking the same wrist in those crashes. On top of that, many of us rode in the Ride of Silence last week, which commemorates riders who died in bicycle crashes.

So Don poses the question: Is cycling dangerous?

Don says some of his non-biking friends are telling him to give up cycling, because it’s “too dangerous.”

A couple of studies done in the 1990s found about 500,000 visits to the emergency room each year in the U.S. as the result of bicycle crashes. Just a small fraction required a hospital stay.  Over half the accidents involved motor vehicles, and road surface and mechanical problems with the bicycle are also common causes of accidents.

That reminded me of a club ride I was on a couple of months ago. We were nearing the end, but had to ride for a short distance on a two-lane highway with no shoulders. The road is hilly and curvy, and we mostly avoid it. When we turned off it to cut across a parking lot to another road, one of the riders remarked how glad she was to have survived another ride.

“Well,” I said, “it seems to me that every time we get on our bikes we’re taking a risk. It could be the car that doesn’t see you, or the car that does, and wants to ‘teach you a lesson.’ Or you could hit some bad road surface and lose your balance, or any number of things. But usually we don’t. We’re smart enough to know the risks and we watch out for problems.”

I guess that’s how I’d answer Don’s question, too. Cycling can be risky, but it’s not inherently dangerous.

Don concurs. “I never thought of riding a bike as dangerous,” he emailed me, “probably because it’s something I learned to do as a child. And if I felt it was dangerous, I doubt I would have taught my children to ride.”

He says his injury occurred because he became overly concerned with one risk factor – cars – and lost sight of another – a railroad track at an intersection bad for riding.

But he also notes that other adults get hurt in sports like skiing, soccer, or basketball, and don’t think twice about getting back to them.

And after his convalescence, he says, “I intend to get back on my bike as soon as I can. After all, I received my new helmet just a few days ago.”

Rude Cyclists

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I saw a tweet recently complaining about rude cyclists. Thinking it was another rant about bikes interfering with cars, I replied to the writer (twitterer? twit? This person is definitely not a twit) asking for clarification.

What I mean, she wrote back, are cyclists who are rude to other cyclists, not motorists. They pass without warning, don’t call out, “On your left,” and generally have an arrogant attitude toward others they meet on the road. That attitude could contribute to accidents.

I chewed on that for awhile, and tried to remember instances I’d run across where other cyclists were rude to me. But then I experienced first hand what I think she was talking about.

I was taking my weekly run around the Veloway, chatting with my friend David. The Veloway is wide enough for two lanes, with a white stripe painted down the center. Slow cyclists are supposed to stay in the right lane. In practice, things are less formal.

As we rode along, catching up (I hadn’t seen him in weeks), he was in the right lane, and I was in the left. We didn’t hear anyone, but suddenly, the call, “On your left,” came from right behind me.

Before I could react, a rider passed me on my left side. He was down in the drops, moving fast. I didn’t think much of it — the lanes are plenty wide enough for two bikes to pass without a problem. But suddenly, a second cyclist shot between us without warning.

He was obviously the riding partner of the first guy, and was going just as fast. I looked at David, and he looked back at me and raised his eyebrows.

“Good thing you didn’t move right when that first guy called ‘On your left,'” he said.

“I would have, but he was by me too fast,” I replied. “We could have had a pretty good crash there.”

The problem, as I saw it, was that the first rider indicated he was passing on the left, but his partner passed me on my right. Now, you never pass on the right. And this guy was more than a bike length behind his buddy, so why didn’t he grab his wheel and follow him around me on the left?

The whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth. I know I’m not the fastest guy out there, but I do get out of the way when faster riders come by. There was no reason for this cowboy behavior.

What kinds of rudeness from other cyclists have you experienced on the road?

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