I was driving a car on the highway recently. We were going quite a ways and the car had cruise control, so I was using it. At some point, I got stuck in another car’s blind spot for a bit longer than I was comfortable with, so I eased my foot down on the gas and slowly pulled ahead of the other car before settling back into the same speed. I know it was exactly the same speed, because the car was on cruise control.

Well, the driver of this car seemed to take my movement ahead as some kind of one-upmanship, because just as I finished pulling ahead, he (or she) suddenly gunned it and zoomed far past me.

This was annoying. I wasn’t trying to one-up the other driver, just stay in cruise control but out of his or her blind spot. Sheesh!

I wonder if cyclists think the same way as this driver. Probably some of them do, so in a way it’s nice to be the slowest-moving thing on two wheels.

People don’t believe I can be so slow, but it is true. I was once passed going up a hill by a tall guy riding a BMX. He was very polite about it, too – he said, “On your left,” gave me room, and so on – and then he went on up the hill, as I watched him in complete astonishment. His silhouette looked like a dancing ogre as he bobbed up and down on this ridiculously tiny bike. Another time, a woman with a baby seat and a trailer on her bike (both occupied by small children) was riding behind me, and it was clear that I was slowing her down, so I moved over to let her pass me. She did, and then she biked away and left me in the dust!

Even when I am tempted to pass someone on the bike path, I usually don’t, in order to avoid the embarrassment I’ll feel when I can’t stay ahead of the cyclist I went to all this trouble to pass. I have only passed people about three times.

“Passing” has much different connotations in transgender circles. “Passing” usually means to be seen as your target gender: the gender you have internally, but which you were not assigned at birth. Some people dislike the term “passing,” because it might imply that you are not truly this target gender but are merely “passing for” it. Others find it offensive because it makes gender attribution – whatever gender others attribute to you – into a grade of “passing” or “failing,” implying that those who can’t convince others of their internal gender are therefore failing at having that gender at all, and their internal gender doesn’t matter.

I don’t have an issue with the term “passing,” but it’s often easier to say “perceived as [whatever]” in general company, just because no one is offended by that. With my friends I can say, “I know I don’t pass and it sucks.” It’s shorthand. They know I mean that I am perceived as female, and that is not how I feel.

These two senses of passing collide for me when I actually do need to pass someone on my bike. (By “someone” I clearly mean “pedestrians who are sharing a multi-use path,” since I’m too slow to pass other cyclists.) I’m usually embarrassed to call out, “On your left,” or “Bicycle,” or anything, really. My voice is still so high. I hate speaking up in general because my voice sounds like a woman’s voice. On a path, I hate that by speaking up I’ll be exposing myself as the wrong gender to complete strangers. Repeatedly.

Conclusion: I need a bell. My ideal bell would be a speaker that says, “ON YOUR LEFT!” for me.

As I keep biking and keep taking testosterone, I look forward to passing in both senses.

I would especially love to pass cyclists who run red lights. But maybe I need a different bike for that. Or maybe I need to train in some concentrated way to get faster. I don’t push myself much. But that’s another post.