Victims of Crime levy: $20! Did this mean I was a criminal? Were they telling me that I was a criminal for riding my bike without a helmet? An idiot certainly, but a criminal? The two police officers, who themselves were on bikes, didn’t look like they were joking… it seemed as though it was standard policy to lump an extra 20 bucks on top of a 60-dollar-fine and cast me down amongst the rapists, murderers, thieves and paedophiles of society.

 

While there’s no limit to the self-indulgent monologue of a rebel-without-a-cause journalist like myself, there are real instances in which cyclists have been the victims of horrific crimes. Crimes of belligerence, as in the case of the hit/run in 2003 near Kapunda that resulted in the death of cyclist Ian Humphrey, as well as crimes of sheer ignorance as in the case of Tony Scoleri’s near-fatal accident on Victoria Drive behind Adelaide University in 2007.

 

On a morning in early March, Tony was preparing to take his shoe out of his pedal clip as he approached a stop light when, instantly, he was shunted off his bike. Tony’s broken ribs, punctured lung and severed nerves in his right shoulder and neck were caused by a passenger opening their door to get out at the red light.

 

 

“I didn’t see the door at all, so I had no reaction time whatsoever. I think I took the door at an angle, on the sharp bit and that’s why it really went through my neck and chest. The damage that was done happened in a split-second really and very quickly my condition degraded. I had a punctured lung and so the blood started coming into it and I couldn’t breathe! I had a very large laceration on my neck as well, the severed veins were whistling from the air coming into the body and the blood going out. As I noticed that I was bleeding from the neck, I actually told the people who injured me to grab something, some tissues or whatever and put pressure on [my neck] and they did that until the paramedics came.”

 

Two years on from his crash, Tony cannot lift his arm much higher than a 30 degree angle. He now uses his left hand to write, turn on taps and lift a glass to his lips. Small victories mean he can shake a journalist’s hand, who, without thinking offers the right as a matter of social conditioning. But as we chatted over coffee and I learnt that in 2007 he was training 13 times a week for the World Triathlon Championships in Canada, was only a few months away from finishing his PhD and only recently won his dream job as a research scientist for the Defence Force, it struck me how bikes offer shit all protection for your dreams.

 

 

What about as a career then? What if you ride a bike every day for your living, how secure could you feel about your future then? In the same year as Tony’s accident, Inside Sport labelled cycling, “Australia’s deadliest sport,” but for bike couriers I imagined cycling is Australia’s deadliest profession.

 

Waiting at the intersection of Pirie Street and King William, a flash of yellow and red jumped through the scramble crossing and up the road behind me. I didn’t really know how to approach the bike courier but, yanking my bike about, I gave chase to his quickly diminishing figure. At the HSBC building by the corner of Gawler Place and Grenfell Street I spied my mark lean his bike up against the wall and enter the building.

 

“Excuse me, I write for Merge Magazine and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about your job?” I said to the courier as he came out the door. Looking at me blankly through orange-tinted glasses he produced his PDA and tapping it, said, “Mate look at this job list, I don’t have time.” Of course I assumed this would be the case and suggested that we chat on our bikes as he worked… this seemed to amuse him and through a grin he agreed: “If you can keep up.”

 

Within five seconds he’d disappeared. The realm of the bike courier, Adelaide’s Central Business District is a maze of back alleys and pathways. At any one time you might see two or three bikes, rear wheel u-locked to the frame, leaning against the front of a building. I caught up with my mark through a lucky guess of left, right, left, left and by the time I pulled up he was already through the building’s glass doors and disappearing into the lift with his next delivery.

 

Riley, my somewhat reluctant courier-guide, wasn’t so much quick on his bike as he was fluid in negotiating his way through traffic, over median strips and across lanes. Talking to him about the article and the state of bike culture in Adelaide didn’t seem to faze him. He knew of a few couriers in the company who’d been put out of commission for a couple of months in the course of duty but certainly wasn’t worried for himself. He knows that motorists don’t see bikes, “When cars collide it’s always that one had the right of way… but that doesn’t matter on a bike.”

 

 

What I think he was saying is that, there’s no point in arguing who has right of way when you’re lying in a crumpled mess on the floor. But couriers are a hard mob that doesn’t expect any favours from motorists. What about fair-weather bikers like myself or the accountant with his trouser leg tucked into his sock? Isn’t there a place where we can ride with the assumption that cars won’t run us over? There is. It’s called Copenhagen and the ice cream is delicious there.

 

Søren Kristensen is a Danish ex-pat living in Adelaide with a wife and two children. He rides every day to work as well as for fitness and sport. The attitude here towards cyclists is completely foreign to him, “You will fail your driving test in Denmark if you don’t look over your shoulder for a bike just once. You can do everything else perfectly but if you don’t check for bikes you fail, because in Denmark you don’t hit cyclists… they’re sacred.”

 

Søren believes that since the Oil Crisis in the 1970s Copenhagen has developed a culture and infrastructure to support cycling as a positive and beneficial alternative.

 

And the pressure is on here too. The most recent census statistics indicate that 41.9 per cent more people are cycling to work in Adelaide these days and sure enough the City has performed some cosmetic changes to Adelaide’s bikescape; symbolically replacing two car parks with bike parks on Pirie and Rundle Street along with a bunch more bike locks and some paint on the street. But ultimately, it’s not up to the council to foster bike culture or bike-awareness here. Tony Scoleri was injured because the person who opened that door didn’t think or imagine there would ever be a cyclist there. Tony, Riley and Søren all agree that drivers using their common-sense will protect cyclists far more than any law.

 

Meanwhile however, the very day after paying my fine for not wearing a helmet, victims of crime levy included, I was tearing along Rundle Street on my bike. Clipsal was smeared all over the East End and I was eager to cut through the filth before the witching hour descended completely. Suddenly a torch jumped out in the middle of the road, waving frantically. It was a bretho station. $25 for no front light, $25 for no rear light and $40 for the victims of crime. I thought of Tony. At least this time I knew someone who might benefit from my criminal behaviour.