Traffic conditions in Grenoble are usually crazy, and one surely gets by faster on a bike than in a car. Maybe this explains the anger and aggression that takes hold of any local as soon as he gets into a car. Forcing one's way, ignoring zebra crossings, preventing pedestrians from crossing the road at green, not letting cars in from side roads, I see this kind of behavior all the time. What's more, drivers get extremely aggravated and yell at each other at red lights and when stuck in congestion. Most of the time, I zigzag my way through the assembled autoimmobiles and am gone before any commotion can reach me. Not so this time.
I'm riding back from work in what looks like the middle of the night. Darkness surrounds me, and the five-o'clock rush hour has long passed. Dinner and a glass of wine are waiting at home. I'm cycling down a one-way road against traffic, as I've done a hundred times before. This is my daily commute.
A minivan turns onto the road a little way up. Suddenly, it accelerates madly and swerves to the side where I'm trying to squeeze by. The van stops right next to me after doing everything possible to give the impression of wanting to hit me. I look into the vehicle in amazement. What's the hurry, dude, you're in a car?
The guys is about 60, despite behaving like a 19-year-old. I shine my headlight into his face and tell him, tranquille, and wave my hand. He is completely exasperated and screams something about my being in his way and all this blabla. My French is not good enough to engage him in a conversation on the merits of cycling and how much sooner he is going do die from a heart attack if he keeps going like that. All I can do is advise him to drive less aggressively and start acting his age. He sits in his metal box ready to explode, fuming, still shouting out his window while I'm already on my way. What happened to savoir vivre? Later tonight, over a glass of Corbière, I'll ponder this question.
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