The subdivision my parents live in is surrounded by unnavigable roads. Of course, you can navigate them by car, but if you try to get out there on a bike or on some running legs, good luck. That is partially due to poorly-paved roads and little-to-no shoulder, but has more to do with AIDs (asshole Illinois drivers, not the immune deficiency).
Over the summer I took my road bike for a spin, daring to leave the neighborhood, and was nearly cowering in a hole, shaking, by the time I returned. Cars didn't move to avoid me, I moved to avoid them.
Drivers were having no part of a cyclist being on the road. They honked. Made gestures. I swore under my breath. And out loud. It was the least bike-friendly experience of my life. My parents live in a village, for Christ's sake. I had better luck maneuvering my way through the busy streets of the state's capitol.
I blame Illinois. Which is neither here nor there.
But over the summer, crews began putting in a bike path. And it's finally (!) finished. So last night I tested it out on a run. The out-and-back to the path's temporary end is only 3 miles, and it's still a little messy with construction debris (I rolled my ankle twice, son-of-a-bitch), but it's so much better than dodging cars.
And next time you see a cyclist, or a walker, or a runner on the road, brake, for crying out loud. Assholes.