No Fixed Abode: Rage Against The Zipcar

In the end, they caught him, sitting on his bike, near a Billy Joel concert that he was probably listening to ironically, identifiable by his ridiculous handlebar mustache. And now the (grand) jury is in on Ian Hespelt: three felony charges and associated misdemeanors. So what did he do? Only this: he rode the wrong way in traffic with a group of cyclists, falsified an impact with a Zipcar being driven legally by a woman of indeterminate age but definitely diminutive size, attempted to hold her against her will with the assistance of other cyclists, then assaulted her with a U-lock as she drove away.

As a cyclist who has been struck five times by vehicles, once hard enough to snap my neck and leg and require the replacement of every red blood cell in my body, I have long struggled to understand the behavior of “Critical Mass” activists, even as I have nodded in sympathy at their frustration with “cagers” who often feel empowered to menace or attack cyclists simply for existing in their vicinity. I consider the car/bike dynamic in American society to be a massive indictment of human nature; given the advantage of safety and security over the two-wheelers around them, the average driver reacts by turning into a cross between the Emperor Commodus as portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix and Judge Dredd.

Oh well. Let’s watch the video, and then I’ll tell you the reason that my favorite blogger would give you for this mook’s behavior.

Hear the rhyme of the ancient Hipster

The actual incident displayed in the video has been Monday-morning-quarterbacked everywhere from the San Francisco newspapers to Jalopnik, but it’s safe to say that not even the hardest-core of bikers-rights types genuinely approves of what Mr. Hespelt has done. This isn’t one of these situations where everybody views the video through their chosen political blinders and comes out mumbling platitudes. Ninety-five percent of the people who comment on it think Hespelt is an idiot and should be charged with something. I am with the ninety-five percent on this.

At this point, I’d like to invite you to read a very long article on another website. The article is called I’m Building A Rape Tunnel and it’s worth your time. However, if you are short on time, here’s the important part as it relates to Mr. Hespelt:

There are no special insights available about the nature of anger; but the nature of rage is well described. If you’re willing to agree that the above sentiments are rage — the irrational, out of proportion blinding hate that anyone else observing it thinks is pretty nutty — then there’s plenty to learn from it.

First, the rage comes because [the subject of the article] is weaker than us. When we feel safe, when we’re not afraid (of him), we’re free to explode in rage. (That’s why there’s road rage and not elevator rage.)

In every horror movie I have ever watched, no one, neither characters nor audience, hated the killer. They’re too afraid to hate. In fact, sometimes they side with the killer — think of an audience of teen boys laughing at the funny/horrifying way the victim was butchered. (And, in reverse: only when they start to hate, when they feel the rage, do they become powerful enough to kill the killer.)

…All rage comes from a narcissistic injury.

…When you find yourself hating someone (who did not directly hurt you) with blinding rage, know for certain that it is not the person you hate at all, but rather something about them that threatens your identity. Find that thing. This single piece of advice can turn your life around, I guarantee it.

What you see Ian Hespelt demonstrating in that video is rage. Narcissistic rage. He’s raging because he’s finally found someone weaker than he is. I mean — look at him. I doubt he could win a fight against the average twelve-year-old kid from rural Ohio. When he swings the U-lock, he looks like a drag queen swishing a purse around for comedic effect. There is no way Mr. Hespelt has ever been anything in his life besides a coward, a victim, a loser. This is a guy who wears a T-shirt protesting some minor and bizarre aspect of the Post Office’s business plan. I have no idea whether he is gay or straight but if he’s straight I’m willing to bet that he’s what they call an incel, or “involuntarily celibate”. Those members of the B&B who are men and who like men are free to offer their opinions on how Mr. Hespelt appeals to them. I don’t know a gay dude who would give him a toss and I know more than a few gay dudes.

As an individual, this guy’s a weakling. As a cyclist, he’s doubly so, even in cycling-friendly San Francisco. He’s probably been the target of a hundred acts of aggression, most of them completely unintentional, from soccer moms in Lexus SUVs and harried executives in S-Classes and other random motorists. He’s maybe been “doored”, although in my experience that is almost always an accident and it’s almost always avoidable if you have your eyes up. He’s had cars turn in front of him, back out of garages in front of him, brake-check him when he rides in the middle of the lane.

He’s angry. I don’t blame him. I have enough car-related scars on my body to convincingly impersonate a Desert Storm veteran at the Indianapolis 500. (That is, um, another story.) I hate cars when I’m not in one. I’ve ridden a motorcycle to work every weekday since July 15 or thereabouts and I’ve been shoved out of my lane a half-dozen times and I’ve had to move to avoid late-brakers and it’s just a general mess, you know? Would it kill the cagers to pay attention to those of us who haven’t decided to drag four thousand pounds or more of stamped steel to work and back?

But it’s easy for me to feel contempt at his cowardice. He and his friends don’t target some NorCal farmer in his F-250. They select a small woman in a Zipcar and they proceed to attack her as if she’d done something wrong. One man screams at her, “Put it in Park! You’re not going anywhere!” like he’s a cop taking control of a criminal. Let me tell you something: I’m forty-three years old and I’m about half as tough as I was as a teenager, which wasn’t that tough, but if I find a video of you and your friends surrounding a car and telling my girlfriend, or the mother of my child, to put the car in Park because they aren’t going anywhere then you had better prepare to be beaten to within an inch of your life. If my kid is in the car, then you should think about estate planning, because that’s kidnapping and most sensible women would see it as a prelude to gang rape. The woman in the Zipcar doesn’t know that you can only achieve an erection in the presence of a buttplug and your fully-functional Twilight Sparkle pony plushie. She thinks you’re gonna rape her.

So of course she is going to drive away. And that’s when your rage really kicks in. Because it’s the night of Critical Mass, that One Night Where Bikers Rule The Roads, the night for you to have revenge against those who have wronged you, but like it or not she is still in a four thousand pound cage and she can still just drive away. She can drive over your stupid little bicycle if you put in in her way. You are still just as weak and ineffectual as you’ve always been.

So you, a thirty-eight-year-old grown man, commence to attempting a beating of a small woman with a two-pound U-lock. That’s who you’ve become. You are the lowest of the low. You’re the biggest coward in America. Not even the pro athletes who drop their women with a right-left combo for mouthing off have a U-lock in their hands when they do it. America hates you, Ian Hespelt. With good reason.

And we could leave it at that, except for the following: he wasn’t really alone. He wasn’t the only person who was yelling at the helpless woman. He wasn’t the only person attempting to intimidate someone for no reason. He was just the ringleader of this particular group of goons. And he is far from alone in the way he thinks about the issue of car-bike dynamics.

If you’re a cyclist in this country, you are less safe because of what Ian Hespelt did. Because of his actions, some drivers will be even quicker to strike you and drive off. Because of his actions, someone, somewhere, is going to respond to a dispute between a cyclist and driver with deadly force. Because of his actions, the cold war between the various users of the American road just became a little hotter.

So, Ian, speaking personally as a former professional BMX racer, former bike shop owner, and someone who has commuted to an actual job on an actual bicycle far more often than you ever have or ever will, I hope they lock you up and throw away the key. But if they don’t, you should consider leaving your bicycle, and your U-lock, just where you left it, forever. Better yet, hit the road and don’t look back. As your friend Billy Joel would say, “When will you realize / Vienna waits for you?”