A few days ago I mentioned that during my ride I went by a newly erected Ghost Bike memorial. While I didn’t know the teenager who lost his life at that intersection last month, as a life long “bike rider” and a cyclist of over 20 years, it was hard to ride by and not feel some sort of sadness and emotion. I felt that however sad it was to see, the bike both honored the deceased and served a reminder to motorists that we cyclists are out there. And I am pretty sure that is what I was supposed to think.
Then Monday morning (just before my 24 hour plague hit), I was chatting with a friend of mine who is a good bit older than my wife and I and has lived around our community most of, if not all of her life. In fact, she lives on one of the dirt roads that I often ride down, just a couple of miles from where the Ghost Bike now sits.
Like most people in the community, she was aware of the incident that happened last month and asked me if I had been on Baseline Road lately and seen “the white bike” at the intersection with Meridian. I said yes, that I just seen it the day before and explained what it was, and what the Ghost Bike concept was all about. This was the first we talked about all this and as we continued on she gave me a bit more background on the families involved. Not rumors or gossip, just some perspective and insight from someone who has lived and worked in the community a very long time and knows many of the long-term residents who have direct friendships and relationships with the families involved.
By the end of our conversation I was already feeling a bit differently about the memorial. Later, probably during one of my fevered dreams, I started to change my mind on whether this particular Ghost Bike was good for our community. Not the cycling community but the community that I live in.
I started thinking that unlike big cities where large populations, busy streets and tall buildings can often (sadly) call direct confrontation away from a Ghost Bike, this Ghost Bike is at an intersection surrounded by nothing but cornfields and two homes that sit on opposing corners. An intersection that lies not too far away from home of the victim’s family, the family friends in which he was riding from and that of the driver who unfortunately struck him. Unlike so many of these horrific tales, this driver was not speeding, drugs or alcohol was not involved and it was not a hit and run. Sadly the boy just didn’t stop at the stop sign, the driver didn’t have a stop sign, and well… it was too late.
A large part of me of course sees the marker as a tribute to a boy who tragically lost his life way too early. I can even see it as a warning to other cyclists to stay safe, pay attention to road signs and take nothing for granted. However, I have also attempted to put myself in the place of all of those involved and can’t imagine the grief, regret or guilt that I would feel each time I went by.
It is of course possible that the boy’s family were consulted and that all those connected to this tragic accident are OK with it and see it for what it is. If that is the case, then I have let those fevered dreams and my own over analyzing get the best of me as I somehow lost track of the fact that a sixteen year old boy has lost his life at an intersection that I ride through hundreds of times a year. I know that many folks out there might not get or understand what I am saying, but I still find myself continuing to wonder– are some communities just too small for something like a Ghost Bike?
It is horrible that any community, town, city or family should have to deal with the tragedy and sadness that is associated with a Ghost Bike memorial. My deepest sympathies go out to the family and friends of the cyclist.
Ride safe.
*I want to say again, I do not know anyone involved in this tragedy. These are merely some thoughts I had on all of it in relation to what I have seen and heard.