Ride of Silence honors cyclists killed while cycling

Midway through a 10-mile ride Wednesday evening, 14 cyclists rolled quietly to the curb on Lincoln Avenue in Skokie, in front of Al’s Cycle Shop.

Tour leader Dave Barish and store owner Larry Binder shook hands without saying a word. The other drivers nodded to Larry and each other. The nod indicated that they were aware of something subtle yet touching – namely, that none of us had died while cycling.

Many cyclists in this country were not so lucky. Since Al’s opened in 1944, between 60,000 and 75,000 cyclists have been killed in the United States. That means that in the 80 years since statisticians began compiling these numbers, a population roughly equivalent to that of Skokie or Evanston has been killed while cycling. Most of these deaths result from collisions with cars or trucks.

About half an hour before we reached Al’s, we had gathered in front of the Wheel & Sprocket bike shop on Davis Street in Evanston. Barish asked for respectful attention as he described the meaning of the word “Ride of Silence” – an annual tradition for the cycling community across the country.

“We all have friends or family members who have been injured or killed while cycling,” he said. “We will ride in silence tonight to honor her.”

He mentioned StreetsBlog Chicago editor John Greenfield – author of countless articles about the challenges of cycling in the Chicago area – who was seriously injured while cycling in southern Illinois last year but is now back in the saddle and blogging chair .

Barish encouraged drivers to mention others to honor or remember them. One spoke of an elder who had ridden all her life, until her last ride. Another talked about an old friend who left as a young adult. Another mentioned a child who was learning to ride a bike.

A common theme was how these deaths could have been prevented. In none of these cases did the cyclist get out of line. One was on a special bike path. The child was lying on a sidewalk. Everyone expected nearby drivers to be alert, which we all learned we can’t count on.