To the Editor:

I read Frank Palmeri’s recent column about ghost bikes [“Ghost bikes and roadside shrines”] and wanted to share my perspective on the matter. Ghost bikes are meant as a memorial, but that is not the reason they are placed at the scene of an accident.

You are correct, a memorial could be made anywhere, and a peaceful place like a cemetery makes sense. Diva De Loayza’s death was a tragedy, and it was also very preventable.

I ride my bike a lot, but not as much as I used to. I had a very close call a few years ago. I was riding my bike on a two-lane road with no bike lane, hugging the ride side of the right-hand lane.

A car in this lane squeezed past me in the same lane to avoid swerving into another car in the left-hand lane. They did not have room to safely pass but did so anyways, and their mirror clipped my handlebar at about 25 miles per hour.

The car didn’t touch me, just the very outermost part of my bike, but that impact was enough to jerk my handlebars to the right very hard, and turn my front wheel perpendicular to my direction of travel.

I was moving slower than the car, but probably just shy of 20 miles per hour, and my momentum would of course not allow me to make such a sharp turn.

I flew over my handlebars and before I hit the ground, I saw another car coming up behind me at speed. I assumed that I was about to die.

When I hit the ground, I was frozen in place. I heard tires screech and seconds later, a car door slam. The car behind me had stopped in time to avoid running me over.

As soon as I realized that, I found that I could move again. I think I must have been paralyzed with fear.

The driver came to check on me, and helped me pull my bike out from under his car and to the curb. I was unharmed save for a few scrapes.

The quick reflexes of this driver had very likely saved my life. He was angry. As soon as he had determined that I wasn’t in need of first aid, his attention switched to the car that had driven off

 They had made it at least several blocks and possibly turned off this road. Other cars had gone around the little accident scene as the man was helping me to the curb with his car stopped in the right lane, flashers on.

They had filled the lane in front of us. The car that hit me was long out of sight.

The man helping me wanted to chase after this driver. I didn't think it was worth it. He left, hoping to catch him.

I sat on the porch steps of a church and called my sister. She bikes almost everywhere. I knew she'd been in several accidents herself. She talked to me on the phone until I was calm, then asked about my bike.

It was somewhat mangled, certainly not rideable as it was. I knew of a bike co-op with a tool room they let people use very close by.

I said bye to my sister, hung up, and balanced my bike on the wheel that could still turn and walked up the road to the co-op. I bought a new wheel. I realigned the headset, and a stronger person working at the co-op helped me straighten out my fork.

As I inspected the dent left in the fork, I thought how easily it could have been my femur or spine that had been crushed under the wheels instead of my steel frame.

If the driver had been glancing at his phone to skip a song, or checking his mirror to see if he could change lanes, he would not have seen me in time to stop.

The driver who hit me didn’t stop, nor did they speed away like someone guilty of a hit-and-run. They drove on as if nothing had happened. I do not think they noticed that they hit me.

That was my first bike accident. Since then, I have had so many close calls I don’t like to count them.

I take a risk every time I get on my bike. I wear a helmet and keep my bike well lit, I pick routes with bike lanes whenever I can.

When I share a two-lane road with cars, and there isn’t room for them to safely pass me in the right lane, I ride in the center of the lane so they don’t try, and are forced to merge into the left lane to safely pass.

This is called claiming the lane; it is legally protected but very controversial among cyclists and very unpopular with drivers, as you can imagine. It is also the only way a cyclist can take their safety into their own hands instead of relying on a driver's good judgment on roads like the one where I was hit.

There are steps like these a cyclist can take towards safety, but ultimately the roads are not safe unless the drivers we share the roads with are paying constant attention to their surroundings, are vigilant about keeping safe stopping distances and safe passing distances, and are driving with the awareness that they share the roads not just with cars but bicyclists and pedestrians too.

The ghost bikes are placed at the scene of an accident to remind drivers what can happen if you let your attention drift or get behind the wheel impaired (whether by alcohol, lack of sleep, or prescription medication).

The site of the accident is crucial.

Not all roads or all sections of road are created equal. The blind curve is the most appropriate spot for this reminder, as is a dangerous merge or intersection.

There are other solutions: The road can often be made safer, and there are other ways to educate drivers about bike safety.

If you're affected by these bikes, try to think of the lives that could be saved by drivers’ increased awareness of this dangerous section of road, or look into ways to bring drivers this awareness without recalling the tragedy.

We would all like to see fewer ghost bikes.

Thanks for reading this. I hope it gives some perspective on why the ghost bikes are placed at the site of the accident.

Juliet Hadid

Berkeley, California

Editor’s note: Juliet Hadid saw Frank Palmeri’s column on a Hudson Valley cycling group chat, which she had joined when she lived in the Hudson Valley.