The e-riders have arrived: largely unannounced and unlicensed (plus a special P.S.!)
Your faithful correspondent has witnessed many a spectacle in her time amongst the citizenry of our fair Columbia — the breathless social gambits, the whispered intrigues, the occasional scandals. Yet, nothing has so thoroughly upset her nerves, her composure, and her very will to cross the street, as the plague that has descended upon our beloved thoroughfares in the form of the electric bicycle and its even more audacious cousin, the electric scooter.
Cast your eyes, if you dare, upon any of Columbia's principal streets at virtually any hour of the day. There you shall observe them, darting hither and thither like particularly caffeinated dragonflies, young persons of tender age, and certain adults of misplaced confidence, astride their buzzing contraptions, weaving between vehicles of far greater mass, with the serene unconcern of those who have never once considered their own mortality.
Traffic signals appear to be regarded by the e-riding class as merely decorative and carrying no more authority than a floral arrangement. This Author notes, with the weary patience of one who has seen much, that a considerable proportion of these daredevil operators appear to have not yet reached the age at which judgment would permit them to operate such devices. One observes riders of an age more properly associated with arithmetic homework than with navigating rush-hour traffic at high speed.
And the adults? Let us be charitable. Let us say only that the possession of years does not appear to have given them any particular acquaintance with the Highway Code. They are, to a one, unlicensed — unregistered, uninsured, and, one suspects, entirely unbothered by this state of affairs.
The near-misses observed by this correspondent alone would fill a moderately-sized volume. The actual collisions — for there have been collisions, Dear Reader, and injuries both minor and otherwise — are a matter of public record and private anguish. The Mayor, to his credit, has not remained silent. He has spoken words. He has expressed resolve. He has dispatched the constabulary with instructions to take firm action.
This Author applauds the sentiment.
One must note, however, with the gentlest of gentle observations, that the problem appears to have worsened since these proclamations were made.
The e-riders continue to multiply. The streets grow no safer. (Where are the safe streets that the mayor has promised us?) One begins to wonder whether confiscating the occasional scooter is rather like attempting to drain a bathtub with a teaspoon whilst the taps remain firmly open. The spirit is willing. The enforcement, one fears, is spread rather thin.
Your correspondent, ever vigilant in the service of civic enlightenment, must draw attention to the rather spirited matter of e-scooters presently terrorising the intersection of Third and Locust with all the discipline of a runaway milk cart.
The chaos does not spring fully formed from the pavement. It begins at the point of purchase, where retailers might do considerably more to acquaint buyers with local ordinances and safety before dispatching these machines into the wild.
Should a device be confiscated by the authorities (a remedy applauded in principle), its deterrent power is rendered rather feeble when a replacement vehicle arrives before the week is out; meaningful fines levied upon parents of young offenders would prove a far more persuasive instructor.
Columbia's civic stewards would do well, additionally, to reflect upon whether proper, separated traffic lanes might reduce the temptation to mount the pavement, for one cannot place a modern conveyance upon an old, crowded road and affect surprise at the resulting pandemonium.
And finally, your correspondent ventures most delicately that no quantity of officers on the street might accomplish what a single honest conversation at the family dinner table might achieve.
She is opposed, rather specifically, to being flattened by one whilst collecting her morning newspaper. The streets of Columbia belong to all of us — to the pedestrian, the cyclist, the motorist, and yes, even the e-rider. But belonging to all of us means being safe for all of us. That is not an unreasonable aspiration. It is, in fact, the very minimum one might expect of a civilised municipality.
The Mayor has expressed his intention. The police have expressed their diligence. This Author now expresses her expectation that both shall be continued with greater vigour, greater resource, and, if at all possible, greater result, until such time as one may cross the street without first checking the sidewalks for incoming vehicles.
Until next we meet upon these pages, Your Most Devoted, Most Watchful, and Rather More Nervous Than She Used To Be, correspondent,
Lady Whistletown
"All is observed. All is noted. All shall, in due course, be reported."
The Mayor has proclaimed the whole of June 2026 to be Pride Month in Columbia Borough.
Pause, Gentle Reader, and allow that to settle upon you like a well-pressed morning gazette.
One recognizes, of course, that not every citizen of our fair Borough shall greet this proclamation with equal enthusiasm. Indeed, there are those among us who may clutch their bonnets and mutter darkly into their teacups. Such is the eternal prerogative of the muttering classes, and we shall not begrudge them their teacups. But this correspondent wishes to speak plainly, in the manner of one who has observed Columbia's affairs these many seasons:
Mayor Lutz has, in this act, extended the warm hand of civic recognition to the LGBTQIA+ community — a community that has, for rather longer than is entirely to Columbia's credit, found itself underrepresented in the public square and under-celebrated in the Borough's official estimations.
To offer recognition where recognition has long been overdue is not a radical act, Dear Reader. It is, in truth, merely a decent one. And yet decency, as any seasoned observer of human affairs well knows, is rather more rare than it ought to be, particularly when it requires one to sign one's name to a public proclamation.
For that signature, this author tips her proverbial plume to Mayor Lutz. May Columbia Borough continue, in its typical unhurried fashion, to grow ever more worthy of all its residents.
