I rode my bike today. I rode in the funeral procession of David Meek, the cyclist who was killed while riding his bike to work last Friday. His family had asked for a bike escort for David's final trip. Though it was last minute notice to the biking community during a work day, it was not surprising that so many turned out to pay him tribute. We were deeply feeling the loss of such a good friend and fellow biker.

I rode my bike today. I rode to work like I do most days. That is not exceptionally notable except, since David's death, many people have been asking me if I intended to continue commuting by bike. Yes, yes, yes, I intend to keep on. Biking, though not without its risks, is too positive of a thing to give up.

David lived his life with courage of commitment. Whatever he believed in, he committed to wholeheartedly. Believing in cycling was just one of his passions, believing with each additional bicycle on the road was making the world just a little bit better. He would hate to think people were getting off their bikes in fear because of his accident. I cannot let David down.

I rode my bike today, back to work from the funeral procession. Several cars drove a bit too close to me, less than the required three feet. Don't they realize? Don't they see me? The driver of the truck that hit David said he didn't see him. That could be true. How common is it to be talking on a cell phone, fidgeting with the radio or maybe driving with sleep still in our eyes? Many things can prevent our full attention to the road. We all do it. Except this time it turned tragic.

But maybe the driver did see him on some level, but unconsciously rendered him invisible. I know David always lit himself up like a Christmas tree when it was dark. Why didn't the truck driver see him?

Culturally, I think, drivers have been conditioned to the expectation that bike riders carry the sole responsibility to get out of their way. Seeing a bike does not invoke a response of caution or care.

Sometimes the response is so low it doesn't even register that a cyclist has been seen. This is so common it was necessary for a law to be passed a couple of years ago requiring a vehicle to pass with at least three feet clearance of a bicycle. You would think that just basic passing safety would have sufficed in having drivers to be careful around bicycles, just like they should be careful of any fellow user of the road. No specific law should be necessary for the specific safety of bicycles. But it is. I know. I see that blindness every day. David was killed by that blindness.

And when I am seen, I frequently get yelled at telling me to get off the road. It always sends a shiver down my spine. Not because I feel a danger of immediate threat, but because of the statement of ignorance these drivers are making. It is the law - bicycles are legal vehicles belonging on the road. It is the law, three feet clearance when passing a bicycle. It is the law, the operator of a vehicle must act responsibly and safely. By expressing an ignorance or defiance of the law, there is no way these drivers can be safe drivers. Chances are they won't actively do anything aggressive (though there are exceptions), but it will prevent them from "seeing" a cyclist and responding appropriately. It is they that should be banned from the road, not the cyclist that follows the rules of safety.

David was a safe rider. But he couldn't do it all. The accident happened because someone didn't carry his share of the responsibility.

David's family lost a loving husband, father and brother. Chattanooga cyclists lost a kind, caring friend among ourselves. And Chattanooga itself lost a wonderful asset to its community. All because of someone's carelessness. Someone's blindness.

Whatever the mode of transportation, we all bear the responsibility to be safe. But remember, the bigger the vehicle, the more potential destruction; the greater the responsibility the operator has. Know the law, and be safe.

I rode my bike today...and I will ride tomorrow and the day after and the day after. And I will remember David Meek.

Colleen Carboni