2009 Chicago Ride of Silence

By John Greenfield

It’s Wednesday, May 20, and dozens of bicyclists are gathering in Chicago’s Daley Plaza for the 2009 Ride of Silence, part of a global tribute to cyclists who have been killed by motor vehicles.

The memorial ride began in Dallas in 2003 after endurance rider Larry Schwartz died when a bus struck him on an otherwise empty highway. This year people in nearly 300 cities are participating, to honor the crash victims and make a statement that streets should be safe for all users.

While the message of the ride is similar to Critical Mass, instead of a rowdy parade the 10-mile Ride of Silence is a solemn procession and its mood is quiet and reflective. “This is not meant to be a fun ride,” says organizer Elizabeth Adamczyk, addressing the Chicago crowd through a PA system on a bike trailer. “We’re out there just like a funeral procession to memorialize all those that have gone before us and we're also celebrating the fact that we’re still here riding. Tonight we’re going to let the silence roar.”

As he waits for the ride to begin, daily bike commuter Mayur Thaker says he’s participating because safety is an issue for all bicyclists. “The main thing is to raise awareness in the eyes of motorists as well as cyclists,” he says. “I hope that drivers will start looking out for cyclists on the road.”



There are many memorials to fallen local riders visible at the plaza. Those who have lost friends and loved ones wear black armbands; people who have been injured themselves wear red band. Green bracelets are handed out honoring Apple Store employee Tyler Fabeck, 22, who was killed in April 2008 at Western and Logan in Chicago. Several people have signs pinned to their backs remembering attorney Gerry Bolkema, 53, rear-ended by a car in northwest Indiana in May of last year.

Zip-tied to the handlebars of Laurie Chipp’s touring bicycle there’s a photo of her grandmother Marcella Kilter, standing by Lake Michigan with her own cruiser bike. Kilter learned to ride a bike right before her 42nd birthday and would ride 20 miles every day in the country near Peru, IL, Chipps says. In 1991, when Kilter was 73, a distracted driver adjusting her car radio struck the cyclist. Her leg was broken and healed incorrectly, ending her road riding habit. “She lived eight more years,” says Chipp, “and she’d ride a stationary bike on the porch for exercise, but it just wasn’t the same.”


Soon the crowd of about 200 rolls out of the plaza with an escort of several bike cops stopping car traffic for them. A sign on the back of Howard Kaplan’s bike says, “Shhhh! Ride of Silence,” and nearly everyone seems to be complying. The complete hush of the group is striking and some bystanders seem confused about the purpose this Mass-like ride; participants pull over to explain and hand them flyers.


The procession heads into River North to visit the white-painted “ghost bike” memorial for artist Clint Miceli, 22, at 900 N. LaSalle. In June of last year Miceli was killed when a car door opened on him, throwing him into traffic. Friends and family are trying to raise money for Active Transportation Alliance’s Clint Miceli Memorial Fund, which will be used for bike safety education projects; a benefit takes place on Saturday, June 13, at Emerald Isle, 6686 N. Northwest Highway in Edison Park.

After friends light memorial candles at the memorial, the group rolls into the sunset up Clybourn Ave. A boy on the sidewalk yells, “What parade is this? Is this the bike parade?” At Tyler Fabeck’s ghost bike under the Kennedy Expressway, the crowd spills into the street as more candles are illuminated.


A few miles later the group fills the street at Armitage and Kedzie, where pharmacy student Blanca Ocasio, 19, was killed in September 2007 by a right-turning garbage truck. A few months later, teacher Amanda “Mandy” Annis, 24, was struck at the same location in April 2008 when a car blew a red light. As riders light candles at Ocasio’s ghost bike, diners at the nearby Streetside Café ask, “Why are you guys so quiet? Make it loud.” Someone hands them a flyer.

Two blocks east at Humboldt the ride stops in the parkway by Annis’ recently-installed ghost bike, which seems to have been placed at a different location than the crash site so as not to detract attention from Ocasio’s memorial. Friends embrace tearfully as birds sing in the twilight.


The ride ends at Western and Augusta at the ghost bike for engineer Isai Medina, 50, who was killed nearby in 2006 when a vehicle hopped the curb as Medina stood on the sidewalk with his “chopper” bike. “I think we really made a bold statement tonight,” says Adamczyk to the crowd. “Thank you guys for cooperating,” says one of the bike cops. “I wish every Critical Mass was like this.”

The Ride of Silence

By John Greenfield


Wednesday, May 21, I rode in Chicago’s Ride of Silence, part of a worldwide tribute to bicyclists who have been killed by motor vehicles.

The memorial originated in Dallas in 2003 after endurance rider Larry Schwartz died when a bus sideswiped him on a deserted highway. This year cyclists in almost 300 cities participated, demonstrating that bikers should be allowed to ride safely, without fear of being struck by cars.

Although the message of the Ride of Silence is similar to that expressed by Critical Mass participants, its means are different. Instead of taking over the streets, memorial riders roll slowly in single file, wordlessly. Rather than celebratory, the mood of the procession is solemn and contemplative.

The ride had special resonance in Chicago because this has been a bad year for bike fatalities. According to CDOT figures from 2001 to 2005 an average of six cyclists per year were killed in crashes here; at least three died between February and April of this year alone.


While previous local rides drew at most 50 participants, about 200 showed up at Daley Plaza this year, including family and friends of young people who died this year: Matthew Manger-Lynch, Tyler Fabeck and Amanda Annis. Many people pinned signs to the back of their shirts or bags commemorating them, as well other fallen Chicago riders like Ryan Boudreau, Blanca Ocasio, Tom McBride and Isai Medina.

Organizer Elizabeth Adamczyk distributed cloth armbands to cyclists: black for those who were there to honor others; red for those who had been injured by cars themselves. “You’re a survivor if you’re wearing red,” she said.

Lauren Vega, who sported a “You’d look hotter in a helmet” sticker on her own headgear, wore a black armband. “I’ve only had one crash,” she said. “It was me versus the alley and the alley won. I’ve never had an altercation with anything moving, but this ride is just a good idea.”

Before the riders hit the street, Adamczyk addressed the crowd. “We’re here to raise awareness that cycles have a right to share the road legally,” she said. “We’re not here to be confrontational with motorists. We’re going to let the silence roar.”

She then read from a poem written for the occasion by Mike Murgas ending, “Tonight’s ride is to make others aware / The road is there for all to share / To those not with us or by our side, / May God be your partner on your final ride.”


Cyclists then rolled out of the plaza, heading west on Randolph St. with riders and police cars “corking” the late rush-hour traffic. As we headed north out of the Loop, almost all riders respected the request for silence and the relative hush made the line of bicycles seem like a funeral cortege, in an effective way.

Although the front of the line stopped at all stoplights, the rest of the procession did continue through intersections as signals changed from green to red, so a few blasts of car horns did break the calm. But overall, bystanders seemed intrigued by the long string of serious, silent bicyclists as we headed up Wells St. and Lincoln Ave. to Lincoln Park.


I had to leave at Fullerton, but friends told me the riders stayed on course with little static from cars. The cyclists visited the sites of recent fatalities on the North Side, most of them marked by white-painted Ghost Bikes locked nearby with signs memorializing the fallen.

First they headed to the intersection of Lincoln / Damen / Irving Park in North Center, where Matthew Manger-Lynch, 29, was hit by an SUV on February 24. From there the group rode south to Western Ave. and Logan Blvd., a complex crossing in Logan Square where Tyler Fabeck, 22, was struck by an eastbound driver on Aril 20.


After rounding Logan Square’s Centennial Monument, the procession continued to the corner of Kedzie Blvd. and Armitage Ave. where two young women were killed within the space of a few months. On September 11 of last year Blanca Ocasio, 19, was hit by a right-turning garbage truck. Amanda Annis, 24, was struck there on April 30 when a car ran a red light.

The ride concluded at the Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western, where Isai Medina was killed by a vehicle that hopped the curb as Medina stood on the sidewalk with his “chopper” bicycle.

All of these people will be missed by their loved ones for many years to come. Chicago’s Ride of Silence served as a reminder to motorists to drive with care and be mindful of their vehicles’ potential to take lives.