An older couple was walking along the bike path, looking out towards the bay. Perhaps they were
watching for seals or sea lions, and there was a good chance they’d see some since dozens congregate during the summer in the vicinity of the Solomon Gulch hatchery when salmon are returning.
When I was about 75 feet or so behind them, I called out, “Coming up behind you.”
Both of them jumped and moved quickly to the left side of the bike path. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I pedaled past, saying “thank you” as I went by. They chorused a happy “thank you” back to me.
There is a minor, very minor, debate (perhaps conversation is a better word) in bicycling circles about the appropriate way to let someone, a pedestrian or another cyclist, know that you’re coming up behind them and are going to pass. The intent, of course, is to avoid startling someone or possibly cause a collision.
Some riders sail by with nary a sound, apparently hoping that whoever is in front of them won’t suddenly change course. This theory doesn’t seem like the safest one to me, and personally, I am always irritated when a cyclist suddenly appears next to me without warning.
Many cyclists prefer to use a bell. Some will ding-ding-ding it madly, while others just go for a more subtle single ring. To me, the former is maddening, while the latter can easily be misheard as a small rock pinging off my frame. Again, not my preferred means of communication.
My preferred method has always been to call out to the person ahead of me. I’ll either say “coming up behind you” if it’s not clear which side I can most safely pass them on, or “on your left (or right)” if that’s the side I intend to pass them on. I do this from far enough back that they have time to react without my running into them.
I read a magazine article a couple of years ago about this topic. In it, my method of alerting those ahead of me was characterized as “a person flying up behind you and madly screaming ‘on your left’ as they zoomed by” (my words, not the magazine’s). The author clearly did not think a verbal warning was the best method.
Well, duh. If I gave my warning in this manner, of course it would piss people off. It pisses me off if the rider behind me waits until they’re at my back wheel before they speak, and if they yelled impatiently, I’d be royally ticked.
The key, I think, is some distance …and a smile. Even though the person ahead of me can’t see me (since they aren’t looking), I always make sure I’m smiling when I call out to them. I think that smile translates into a cheerful, friendly tone of voice. As a result, even when I startle some sweet older couple into jumping off the path, they still respond with thanks for the warning. And that couple wasn’t the only one. Most people like a friendly heads-up that someone is overtaking them, and will respond accordingly.
Anyway, this whole incident got me to thinking about communication in general, and how our tones of voice convey so much, intended or not. When Thane and I have spats, it’s almost always because one of us didn’t like and/or misinterpreted the other’s tone. But think, too, about how much we can tell about a friend’s mood from their tone over the phone. Vocal tones convey a glorious amount of information that mere words never could.
Perhaps, however, we too often forget that we have control over the tones of voice we use. I know I am too prone to sounding like I’m snapping or testy about something when that tone in no way conveys my actual emotions. As a result, my dear hubby take offense when none was intended, and usually responds in kind. I'll let your imaginations take the scene from there.
Perhaps, just perhaps, our world be a happier place if we all tried harder to ensure we had smiles on our faces before we spoke. What do you think?
