I popped by the shop to see what kind of antics the crew had gotten into. I found Ron out back having a smoke and coffee.
“There he is, Mr. Facebock Famous,” chortled Ron, “How was the road rager - you survived?”
“What the hell dude? Yeah, I had an ‘encounter with a phallus’, but how did you know?”
“You’re blowing up on the Tawney Park Facebock page, someone recorded it all from the bushes.”
My phone started vibrating. It was my sister. I called her right away.
“No, I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Yes, I’ll look at the comments. I’ve been fine for hours. I left this behind. This is creepy. Let me call you back later.”
I turned quickly back to Ron.
“What the hell? Show me the video.”
In the video, I saw a full on replay of the conflict I had with Mr. Porsche driver first thing that morning.
“The comments seem to mostly be in your favour bud.”
That was small comfort. I wanted neither comments about me nor a video to exist on a ‘community Facebock page’ that I wasn’t any part of.
“Most of the comments were supportive, but Judge Mitchel’s wife didn’t seem impressed. What happened?”
“Narrow road. I took space. Then some dude comes out of nowhere and starts beeping and yelling…”
“And then you egged him on?”
“I can confirm. There was mockery involved. That Mitchel lady does not like bikes.”
“Yeah. She’s been at every regional council meeting complaining about bike lanes.”
“Might makes right, when it comes to her. I just can’t believe that someone recorded the whole thing. The guy was a coked up douche.”
“Having things recorded can be helpful when you’re dealing with a coked up douche. I’m just glad he didn’t run you over. From the looks of things, he was barely holding back.”
“I’m just so tired of fighting for space all the time. But what the hell was that dude doing in the bushes?”
That question spun in my head. Who records people on the street? How did this belong as community knowledge? What would it have been like growing up in a time where everyone had a camera and broadcast capabilities in their pockets?
People I knew found out I was in a conflict. It was a petty one. And it didn’t rattle me a bit. Some I knew however were rattled seeing me there and were concerned about me. I felt ashamed that I stood up to the bully in the car. I felt ashamed that others were worried - so much so I wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there.
I realized that there were more terrifying things in the neighbourhood than coked up SUV drivers. The nosey parkers hiding in the bushes with their cameras were hunting for gossip to spice up their comfortable lives. Their judgement and gossip, though mostly in my favour, could turn on a dime. I was free from their scorn. This time.
“Well, I stopped by to see if you wanted to ride after work, I’m not much in the mood for that now.”
“Well bud, you know what they say when it comes to bikes: Fall off, get back on. Let’s get spinning.” Ron finished his smoke. We went thorough the usual procedures then rolled on out into the good night, our heads on a swivel, looking out for angry men driving Porsches.
This situation brings me firmly into one of my favourite topics: communication design. Who are you communicating with, what is your intended message, no what is your EXACT intended message, given the who and what, how is the best way to communicate it (pick a channel, or a lane, in this instance). Consider possible noise or opportunity for misinterpretation and minimize or eliminate it..."No." is a powerhouse here. Consider the non-verbal components as they make up the bulk of the meaning of the message. Now deliver the message and listen. Seek confirmation the message was received as intended. No? Clarify the rough points. Seek confirmation again. Listen. Confirm that the receiver understood your message as intended. Man, no wonder people are exhausting and we minimize risk by using a script. My immediate response to this situation is WTF, someone posted two strangers having an argument over space on a quiet side street. My sense of safety, or lack of safety, kicked in. Imagine it was a video of two women arguing in a public restroom. What's more disturbing? The argument or someone filming in a women's restroom? The overarching message here is the safety of the restroom has been violated. And like this, the community of which you speak suddenly becomes less safe for people. I just realized it's a bit triggering, as I have had 20 hours a week of my work over the last two years recorded and published and subject to reposting, microscopic interpretation by rewinding and stopping and judgement by people whom I am paid to teach and assess. Zero tolerance for having a bad day or (eye roll) being in pain. 13 months of this period was trying to hide an injury, constantly in pain from bones not being where they belonged, wayward ribs rubbing against my lung, my body training itself to breathe shallowly, so as to not bruise my lung. My every movement, gesture, word was caught on camera and ready to be used as evidence of not being nice enough. An expression of pain can be interpreted as frustration or disappointment. So, this is the other factor in communication design, the receiver. How well do you know them? How well do you REALLY know them. The most skilled communicator can fail by not knowing the intimate details of the receiver. None of us know these. Great communication is incredibly hard. The odds are stacked against you. So, as my Momma would say, "If you don't have anything nice to say (or record) don't say (or record) anything at all."
PS Cyclist vs Porche. David vs Goliath? Poor vs rich? Common man vs elitist? The mode of transport already has people judging based on their experiences with cyclists and owners of Porches. Even if you left the make of car out of the story, or changed it to a car, there are biases at work. And that is one of the dangers of recording strangers: we seek to reconfirm our biases: a fancy way of saying we hear what we want to hear and see what we want to see.