As a student whose bike-riding skills leave a lot to be desired, the alternative in Oxford (unless you made the genius decision to bring a car into a zero emissions zone) is walking. Walking has its benefits. It’s good for your sanity to get outside the walls of college, to break apart otherwise-monotonous academic lock-in sessions, and let exercise infiltrate otherwise sedentary working days.
But walking isn’t without its issues; there are times when navigating Oxford’s pavements is more infuriating than getting through central London. The first of these problems are the blocks of tourists you’ll occasionally crash into the back of, stopping when its most inconvenient times. A mob of sightseers, spilling onto the total width of the pavement, demonstrating the spatial awareness of a demented chainsaw, move precisely into your path when you’re already late to a lecture. It’s particularly bad if you get caught down a side street in one of these slow moving icebergs of people: there’s no road to hop into to slip past them. Instead, you can only resign yourself to defeat and a haranguing from your tutor as the berg placidly drifts down the street without a care in the world. And definitely without a care for your timetable.
The second menace is of a different nature: suicidal cyclists. With full belief in the righteousness of their cause to ride on the road without being bound by its rules, zebra crossings become a gamble. You can be half-way over the road, make eye contact with a cyclist, staring into their soul imploring them to stop. But they’ll brake like you stepped right out of the bushes if you cross them, and their god-given right to be a menace to society. The only consolation about this threat is that they’re unlikely to be encountered after work, as cyclists are notoriously scared of fun. They revert to VOI’s or Lime Bike’s, and are freed of their aggression and occasional outbreaks of lycra…
The final threat Oxford’s pedestrians face is each other. With people whose heads are still stuck in the library wandering around the narrow streets, many come close to Titanic-esque collisions. I’m guilty of this, whether that be almost crashing into a student or going face-first into a signpost. In a pedestrianised city with cobbled streets that could send the most accomplished athlete tumbling down, the potential for absent-minded people to slip and fall is ever present.
What should people do to reduce their chances of taking a tumble, kissing a bike wheel or colliding with a herd of tourists? Honestly, just use your common sense (in short supply this side of the Thames). Don’t sprint out onto the road without checking for Oxford’s resident menace, a swarm of cyclists. Avoid the post-tute shuffle, and keep a keen eye peeled for great blocks of people who look vaguely lost.
They could be from Cambridge, they could be tourists. Either way, it’s best to keep clear.