Hills irresistible; rules of the road, not so much

No one has to tell the blissful residents of northeast Pasco's rural hills that theirs is some of the prettiest, most inviting country in the whole of Florida. Theirs is land that rolls and swells, dips and peaks, like a grand, spellbinding green sea.

Their defense of the special character of the region is zealous and fearsome, and in most cases, rightly so.

But until they can turn the whole place into a gated community, its undulating nature will continue to lure interloping visitors unable to resist its undulating uniqueness. And, as with so many of its interactions with outsiders, friction inevitably ensues.

Lately, the locals have been dismayed by swarms of bicyclists who, eager to test themselves against the area's long and testy inclines, make weekly pilgrimages in search of their inner Lance Armstrongs.

Which is all well and good, right up until some hill-climbing pack riding four abreast impedes the progress of a local motorist late for Sunday school or a tee time. Or some peloton (Latin for "Avert your eyes! It's guys in tights!") careens around a blind corner into the path of a Ford F-250. Or the same bunch blows through a stop sign, imperiling a convoy of SUVs headed to soccer practice.

Another entitled class?

Lately, as detailed on TBO.com by the Tribune's Laura Kinsler, law enforcement has begun cracking down on the excesses of the cyclists who, while taking to northeast Pasco's back roads and byways, display the worst characteristics of the nation's creeping entitlement mentality.

Some of the quotes attributed to the riders are, to say no more, breathtaking in their presumptuousness. Consider this, from cycling coach Dina Farag: "We pick Sunday morning because we figure people don't have to rush anywhere."

And this, from cycling shop owner Randy Myhre: "I feel like for the little amount of inconvenience we cause, people can afford to wait a couple of minutes to get to where they're going."

Really? This is the cyclists' best argument for flouting traffic laws? It's Sunday. What's your hurry? Shouldn't you be home with your coffee and newspaper?

In other words: Be happy we don't show up every weekday afternoon, when we could really mess up your commutes and errand-running.

Forgive the citizens of northeast Pasco's rural overlay district if they are not grateful for small blessings. They have this wacky idea that the rules governing traffic apply 100 percent of the time, and that the reason they do is to make it far more likely that everyone who takes to the roads will traverse to and fro without incident, no matter the day of the week or the time of day.

Obvious nonsense

Kinsler quotes "cycling advocate" Alan Snel, who complains about drivers who fail to provide the legally mandated 3-foot passing buffer: "The mindset has to change."

That may be. One is tempted to recommend that cyclists and residents agree to meet to sort out certain voluntary accommodations. For instance: Between 7 a.m. and 10 a.m. on Sundays, pelotons of no more than 30 riders will be considered a single vehicle for the purposes of stop sign enforcement. Or: During the same hours, when motorized vehicles are in the same lane, cyclists may ride up to four abreast during hill climbs not to exceed one-half mile. And so on.

Sound nice? It's nonsense, obviously. It would all add up to the same thing. No matter how sincerely entered into, local informal agreements would not have the force of law.

So we're back where we began.

On Sundays, the hills are alive with the sound of cyclists. But for their sake, they need to heed the laws as they are written, not as they wish they were.

A pickup truck's bumper doesn't understand a peloton's sense of entitlement.