In the fair city of Pittsburgh, between all those cars 
rushing to work, home, holiday shopping, and other really 
important things, I am a cyclist and sometimes very scared. 
I believe cycling is good, not just for my health and the 
environment, but also to make the place we live in more 
humane and friendly. I think travelling from home to work 
should be part of life, just as much as being at either 
place. Sometimes you like going downhill and sometimes 
uphill, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. But it seems that 
car drivers see their life on the road as a struggle to get 
somewhere faster, especially on those dark, rainy, cold 
autumn days. Even if faster just means getting faster in 
line waiting for a red traffic light. I am especially scared 
then. Please, please, with a big kiss from me, remember that 
a dent in your car might be my death. That sometimes I might 
have to swerve a little to avoid the big holes on the side 
of the road. But when cars past me by less than one foot 
away at five miles above the speed limit, every time I am 
but a pluck away from meeting my creator. Once a car, as 
usual too big for its single occupant, hit my hand at full 
speed and left me with a blue reminder of my mortality. Do 
car drivers know how wide their cars have gotten? Moreover, 
I do not drive closely pass parked car because I hope to get 
a date with a car door, which from time to time swing open 
right in front of me. But I cannot cycle out in the middle 
of the road: that is the speeding metal zone. I am not 
really a car lover, but the sheer shock of the suddenly 
opened door often provokes remarks about the intimate 
anatomy of the owners. I could go on saying that the excess 
in cars and their size makes the United States probably the 
ugliest country in the world, but I am not going to. I could 
maybe say that yelling something from a car window is 
probably one of the trashiest things one can do, next after 
beating children, but I am not going to. I could also say 
that cars seem to me the symbol of a selfishness and 
isolation, but I am not going to. Instead I am going to say: 
look at all those beautiful trees, those pretty parks, those 
lively youngsters, those nice views of Pittsburgh. Enjoy it, 
drive slow, walk more, or, if you dare: take the bike, but 
don't hit them; give bikers a safe space. My life, like
your steering wheel, is in your hands.