Two-wheeling Freak One of the greatest benefits to living in a clean, orderly and beautiful city like Stockholm is using my mountain bike as my main mode of transportation. Yes, it's a mountain bike and not a "city bike-- I ride over curbs and across the occasional park, after all. I never get a parking ticket, I can literally ride door-to-door, I am never delayed by temperamental public transportation and I don't get stuck in traffic. Best of all, I never have to make time to exercise. Ah, it sounds like life on a bicycle is as good as it gets. Well, were it just me and the open bicycle path, we'd have a perfect fairytale screenplay. Unfortunately, the script also calls for supporting characters. They are otherwise known as pedestrians, motorists and the dreaded fair-weather bicyclists. The warmth and bright glow of spring and summer brings bittersweet feelings to me. On one hand it's a relief to have ice-free bicycle lanes and no need for mounted floodlights on the daily commute to and from the office. However, the benevolent weather brings out more than the birds, bugs and beer drinkers. Alas, it also awakens the fair-weathered bicyclist. Fair-weather bicyclists often see their bicycle as an opportunity to get some exercise while taking advantage of the weather. They are mostly harmless (except for those that are pedestrians or motorists in disguise in which case they have a comment for everything as I ride by). But like all good consumers some enthusiasts focus more on the uniform, rather than the ride. They deck themselves out in bike shorts, bike shirts, bike shoes, bike socks and then some other fancy bike wear. In most cases, these faux-cyclists are middle-aged men and they've got their manhood (literally) on the line. And there I am: Chick on a bike…and to top it, in a skirt. I can read their minds, "I am definitely faster than she is." And so they pump all they got into those pedals and overtake me. After another 50 metres their fast and furious pace slackens and they slide into the false sense of security that they are ahead and therefore, there to stay. Oh no. What they have misjudged is that my steady pace is faster than their now overexerted, winded recovery from the assault. And their competitiveness has awakened my contempt of their comical exhibition of male prowess. -They might first want to reconsider the form-fitting legwarmer. Anyway. This prompts me to kick up my pace to power cruise (I don't want to make the same mistake and find myself joining them with egg on my face) and easily sail by them, perhaps graciously offering them a draft to ease their ride, albeit momentarily. The funny part is, that no man who has overtaken me and then subsequently been overtaken, has retried. Tails tucked between the saddle, they accept their fate. I always appreciate these challenges just before swimsuit season. Today I am a rebel with a cause. A long time ago, in a land far, far away, I was once an unassuming bicyclist. I would jump on my bike, avoid hitting people and cars and arrive at my destination. No more thoughts than that; no strategy, no divisive game plan. All that has irrevocably changed. During my decade on two wheels in Stockholm I have been victim to a constant assault. There is an open war on bicyclists. We are seemingly the manifestation of all things evil and therefore scourge of the Earth. Now I don't proclaim to be overly law-abiding, and I might admit to the occasional infraction of the law, but I'm not a serial murderer, drug pusher or mafia boss. If I break a traffic rule then fine me, don't curse my mother. You can barely get a Stockholmer to speak to you in public, let alone express an opinion. And then there's the rumour that Swedes avoid confrontation. Ha! Throw those myths to the wind when it comes to bicyclists. We bicyclists are open targets for any and all repressed aggression. This non-stop barrage has rendered me jaded. What protection is a helmet when the main assault is audible? As a result, I fulfilled the popular prophecy of the reckless, law-breaking, rebellious cyclist and I ride with impunity. So give me a ticket. Don't let me scare you off from riding a bike around Stockholm. In fact, I highly encourage it. Join me in my quest to live and let ride. - Elizabeth Dacey © 2006, Swedish Bulletin. All rights reserved