There's little doubt this sign is aimed at the cars racing down PCH every moment of every day. Share the road, you selfish drivers, talking on cell phones, putting on makeup, shaving, eating, writing, reading, dressing, messing with the kids - no need to go on, we've all seen it, we've all done it - share the road and give two-wheelers a chance.
But on weekends, when pelotons of cyclists take to our little seaside highway, when, by their sheer numbers they form an entity of their own, swollen and amoeba-like, stretching, bulging, breaking and re-forming, riding three and four abreast, tracking the thick white line that marks the shoulder, shouldering their way into the lane of cars next to them, sure drivers will steer clear, then I think the sign speaks to them.
Share the road, you arrogant cyclists. Sure, it's narrow, sure it's scenic, sure that's the Pacific just a few feet away. But the slow, Sunday-driving days of PCH are long gone. You're riding on a freeway now. That 45 mile-per-hour speed limit sign? Pure fantasy. I'll slow down for you, steer clear of you, change lanes for you, but my fellow drivers? Will they yield? Do they even see you? Who knows. You quite literally take your life in your hands each time you think your valuable, vulnerable bicycle status means anything at all to the thousands of cars speeding by you on those 10- or 20- or 50-mile rides. So please, ride to the reality, not the dream. Right to the right. Share the road.