"On Your Left!"

It happened again yesterday. I was walking on the Sonoma
Bike/Pedestrian path, deep in thought, lost in other worlds and old
worries. The path was nearly deserted; I felt alone with the exception
of one lone killdeer softly calling out in the adjacent field.
Suddenly, the near-silence was shattered by the harsh voice of a woman
streaking up behind me on her Schwinn, yelling, "On your left!" Jolted
out of my meditation, I jumped and lurched right, my adrenalin-drenched
heart pounding. I was still trying to regain my composure when she was
but a dot in the far-ahead distance.

"On your left!" bugs me. Although I'm sure bicyclists have the noblest
of intentions and desire only to protect me from harm, these warnings
still feel, at some level, as if they are demanding, "Out of my way!"
And, even though I'm subjected to these bellows several times on my
five-mile walks and should be used to them by now, they always startle
me. The human voice is not the most melodic of nature's sounds.

But I'm open to other options. I find the bicycle bell much more
civilized and quaint and European. Can we compromise with a bell?

Meanwhile, if you're speeding down a bike path one day and, just as you
come abreast of a pedestrian she shrieks in your ear, "On your right!"
and you startle and fall off your bike (unhurt, of course), that won't
be me laughing. Oh no, I wouldn't do such a thing. RoadPeace forever,
man.