In the spirit of Curb Your Car Month (CYCM) I’ve invited local community members to write a blog post on a sustainable transportation topic of choice.

This first post comes from Michael Betzold Deputy Editor of the Ann Arbor Observer. Look for more posts from now ’til the end of May.

Want to write a post? email me at getdowntown@annarborchamber.org

I’m in love with my rear-view mirror.

For most of my life, I bicycled by braille. I reacted to passing vehicles by judging the relative menace of their engines’ roar. The sound alone didn’t give me much of a clue as to whether I was about to be grazed or given a wide berth, so I would reflexively tense up every time and move my wheels to the very edge of the roadway. I had learned the hard way not to try to turn around and look. Doing so might make me blind to a hole in the road or cause me to steer right into the path of my overtaker.

Two years ago, when we downsized out of the Eberwhite neighborhood and moved to a one-acre lot in semirural Scio Township, my daily commute to work increased from less than two miles round-trip to ten. I decided I needed to get more serious about bike commuting. So I bought a rear-view mirror and had it mounted on the left arm of my handlebars.

Now I consider the mirror indispensable. I can’t believe I ever biked without one. It’s worth the investment just for the peace of mind: No longer do I ride in fear. On my bike now, I’m as fully aware as I am behind the wheel of my car. I can see when I’m being given lots of room (which is the vast majority of time), when I’m going to be squeezed for space, or if (as never happens, but might) I’m about to be literally run off the road.

The volume of engine noise was never a reliable indicator of the degree of danger I might be in from a passing motorist or trucker anyway. Now I ignore it altogether. A really loud motor means nothing menacing by itself, and a quiet motor should not be reassuring. No one sneaks up on me anymore. I don’t get surprised, I don’t flinch, and I’m not riding tense.

The really serious cyclists who pass me wearing their Kevlar outfits usually have their tiny mirrors attached to their helmets. I can’t say whether that set-up is superior to my handlebar mirror, though it certainly looks more impressive. My own mirror seems clumsy in comparison, but then I’m not going for speed or style. I’m only concerned about comfort, safety, and durability. The love of my commuting life does make my bike four or five inches wider. I figure that just encourages motorists to give me more room. And the really good news is that almost all of them give me lots. Why wouldn’t they? They know I’m watching them closely. I’ve got eyes in the back of my head.