A Ride of Silence Message

I am a cycling advocate, and I ride every day.
I have not missed a day in over two years.
Of all the rides on Tucson’s calendar, there is one I never miss.

It is also the one ride I do not want to do.

That may sound strange coming from someone helping promote it, but that feeling is exactly why the Ride of Silence matters. Too many people say they avoid this ride because they do not want to sit with the sadness of what it represents. They do not want to think about death. And honestly, neither do I.

But the purpose of this ride is bigger than mourning.

The Ride of Silence will take place on May 20th, meeting at 5 PM at Ramada 19 in Reid Park, located off Bucky Steele Blvd near 900 S. Country Club. This annual event is one of the most powerful opportunities we have to bring attention to cycling safety in our community.

Yes, it honors cyclists who have been killed or injured, but its greater purpose is awareness. It creates visibility for the people who ride our roads every day and reminds the entire community that safer streets remain an urgent need.

When hundreds of cyclists move together through the streets in silence, the message becomes impossible to ignore. It reaches drivers, elected officials, and the broader public in a way that reports and meetings rarely can. It shows that this is not a niche issue. It is a community issue.

That connection between loss and advocacy has long been embodied by people like Jean Gorman.

After her son Brad was killed by a motorist on Catalina Highway, Jean became one of Arizona’s most important bicycle safety advocates. Her work helped push Arizona’s three foot passing law, requiring drivers to give cyclists space when passing. What began as personal grief became lasting change, influencing both policy and public awareness.

Later, I met Brandon Lyons under similar circumstances. Brandon was struck by a vehicle on Sunrise, and I visited him in the hospital, as I have done with many injured cyclists over the years.

When someone is in that situation, I often ask a simple question once they are able to respond. Do you want to be an advocate. Do you want to speak up.

Most say no, which is completely understandable. Many are dealing with serious injuries and the reality of what just happened. And even among those who do say yes, it takes a rare kind of fortitude to continue advocating year after year, because each time it brings back raw emotions and painful memories.

Brandon was different.

Even before that crash, he had already been involved with Look Save a Life after experiencing a prior collision. He had the personality for advocacy. He was outspoken, driven, and willing to take on difficult conversations. After his injury, he stepped forward instead of stepping back.

Every time Brandon was notified about a cyclist involved in a collision, he would call me on the way to the hospital. I personally burned out long before he did, but even Brandon eventually stepped back. It is simply that emotionally draining.

What made both Jean and Brandon so impactful was not just what they believed, but what they did with it. They turned personal experience into public responsibility.

There are also physical reminders of these losses throughout Tucson. White painted bicycles placed along roadways mark where cyclists have been killed. Many people pass them without knowing what they represent. Each one marks a life that did not make it home.

There are more of them than most people realize.

So how do we make those deaths not be meaningless.

We do it by choosing to let them change something.

Cyclists ride throughout Tucson and across Pima County. Safety depends on the entire system, not just one stretch of road. We all share the same network of streets, and we all share responsibility for what happens on them.

That is why this ride matters.

When a large group of cyclists moves through the streets in silence, escorted by police, it creates a moment the community cannot ignore. It sends a clear message that people care about safety and are willing to show up for it.

Most of us may never become lifelong advocates like Jean or Brandon.

But the Ride of Silence gives each of us the chance, at least for one evening, to step into that role.

It is not about dwelling on loss.
.

It is about turning that loss into awareness.

Damion Alexander