Maybe a firefighter’s cycling death will change distracted driving culture

If life were fair, Mike Kreza’s wife and three daughters, in two weeks, would watch their favorite firefighter get ready for one of the toughest events of his life, Ironman Arizona.

But during a morning of cycling, when Kreza was tapering so he would be in peak shape for the grueling race, a car crushed the fire captain’s bicycle and body.

It was a single car, but in a way, we’re all responsible.

Consider that in Orange County alone in the last six years, 90 people riding bicycles have been killed by vehicles.

That is more than one dead cyclist every month.

Statistics are similar in other Southern California counties, where laws make clear that cyclists have the same rights as drivers.

Yet if we’re honest, deep down we know we’re just plain lucky we’ve never hit someone on a bicycle.

We randomly swerve into bike lanes. We park and open driver doors without looking. We focus solely on cars and fail to spot bicycles. We stop on crosswalks, not before them. We speed up and suddenly slow down.

That’s right, each one of us could have injured or killed someone riding a bike, and it will take each one of us to change our culture of tolerating inebriated and distracted drivers.

Yes, you, too, can make a difference.

Hundreds of deaths

The next time you’re in a car — preferably as a passenger — look to your right and to your left. If you haven’t already noticed, there’s an excellent chance you are looking at someone holding a phone and yakking or texting.

Sure, they are breaking the law and for a first offense face a fine of over $150. But the cost of the fine, in truth, only reveals how life is cheap.

A case in point: The other night my wife and I were driving home from the gym in separate cars. When we got home, she accused me of texting while driving. I assured her that I was merely unlocking my smartphone — so I could text at the next red light.

At the time, I thought my retort was funny. Today, not so much.

In Orange County last year, according to coroner records, 16 people on bicycles were killed in traffic.

The year before it was 14 dead; the year before that it was 19; the year before that there were 18 cyclists killed.

Some say fragile bicycles and fragile human beings shouldn’t be on the same roads with speeding tons of steel. And with a smorgasbord of ways to melt our brains and the desire to check our cellphones becoming a national addiction, they may have a point.

According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, in 2016 traffic crashes were responsible for 840 cyclist deaths.

But do we really want to live in a world where a pollution-free commute by bicycle is impossible, where we throw away dollars spent on bike lanes, where we just give up because we appear incapable of following simple safety rules?

Ghost bikes

After Kreza succumbed to his injuries on Monday morning, I visited the scene of the accident on Alicia Parkway in Mission Viejo.

A dozen votive candles lined the sidewalk. Bunches of flowers were stacking up. Photographs of Kreza, an 18-year Costa Mesa fire department veteran, his wife and daughters crawled up a tree trunk.

Yet violence lingered just below the pictures. The base of the tree bore fresh scars from metal tearing at bark and gouging the living trunk.

As I crossed myself in mourning, I found myself thinking of the dozens of places I have passed over the years where cyclists have been killed. Perhaps you have seen some of these places yourself.

Often, the site is marked by a bicycle painted white to honor the dead. Cyclists call them “ghost bikes.”

Spotting the flowers and photos, a road cyclist stopped in the bicycle lane where Kreza was taken out. After introducing myself as a fellow cyclist, his first words were quiet and solemn, “ghost bike, too many ghost bikes.”

The rider was Andy Sullivan, age 72, of Laguna Hills. He offered his cred by sharing he sometimes logs more than 8,000 miles a year.

I asked if he’s ever been struck by a vehicle. Sullivan said he has had three “encounters” with cars and that each one resulted in what cyclists call road rash — what doctors call lost skin.

“Texting, drugs and alcohol,” Sullivan said were to blame. We both agreed that — so far — he’s been lucky, that the damage could have been far worse.

Sullivan allowed he’d rather have tipsy drivers on the road than people who text.

“At least,” Sullivan said, “the woozy ones are looking at the road.”

Staying safe

In the early 1990s, I started riding roads and was terrified. Quickly, I shifted to bike paths. But then my goals stretched beyond bike paths and I returned to road riding, most of it in south Orange County.

For a while, I felt safe and secure on our swooping bike lanes that seemed to stretch into forever. My favorite route included Santiago Canyon Road where rolling hills complement misty mornings and broiling summers.

But over time, SUVs got larger and space for cyclists grew more narrow. Then the age of smartphones arrived.

For a time, I crossed myself every time I passed a place where a cyclist was killed. With fellow roadies, I also shared about the people who died.

But I eventually grew wary of being “David downer.” It also got dangerous crossing myself so much.

Eventually, I switched almost exclusively to mountain biking. Why mountain biking? Because I want to live.

My last batch of road rides was about a decade ago preparing for Ironman Arizona. Given that the bike portion alone covers 112 miles, there is no other way to really prepare.

Coincidentally, that race was the same one that Kreza was preparing for, yet will never have the opportunity to even start.

Please help make sure that the next Ironman competitor, the next person commuting by bicycle, the next kid on a bike near your car isn’t injured or killed.

You only need to remember to drive — and just drive.