In 2014, I did something I never imagined I would do — especially after years spent as a political staffer watching campaigns from the inside. I put my name on a ballot.
The invitation came from Kathleen Wynne, then premier, someone I had first known as Minister of Transportation. We had worked together during my time as CEO of the Share the Road Cycling Coalition, advocating for laws and policies that would make Ontario’s roads safer for everyone. When she asked me to run, I remember asking her plainly: “Why me? What do you see that makes you think I should be part of your team?”
Her answer has stayed with me ever since. “Because you have been through things. And I admire how you’ve turned adversity into policy and societal change. I’m inviting you to bring that work into government — to continue the change we need, and that you are seeking.”
She was referring, of course, to the loss of my husband, OPP Sergeant Greg Stobbart, killed by a careless driver in 2006 while out on a training ride. His death shattered my world — and reshaped it. It forced me to confront not only my own grief, but the systemic failures that made his death possible.
That grief became the catalyst for a transformation: personal, political, and ultimately provincial. It led to legislative change, new cycling strategies, and a movement of people across Ontario who simply want safer streets and healthier communities.
That journey taught me something essential: when we centre people — their stories, their safety, their daily realities — policy becomes a tool for healing and progress. When we don’t, it becomes a weapon.
And today, as Ontario enters another municipal election cycle — especially in Toronto — I see cycling being weaponized in ways that feel painfully familiar. Not because the issue is inherently divisive, but because `wedge to win’ politics has replaced what should be at the centre of every conversation: people.
One candidate in Toronto, Brad Bradford, has promised to remove cycling infrastructure on Bloor Street — one of the city’s most important east‑west corridors — and has suggested that cyclists should simply use side streets, ravines, or multi‑use paths instead.
But this framing ignores a basic truth about how cities function: the best cycling infrastructure in the world is built where people actually want to go. Paris, Montreal, London, New York — none of these cities send cyclists on detours through back routes while reserving the main streets for cars. They build cycling networks on the very streets that connect people to their daily lives.
As the Danish architect and planner Jan Gehl reminds us, cities are for people — how they live, and how they move.
We would never tell motorists they cannot drive to the places they need to go: their workplace, their child’s school, their favourite restaurant, their bank, their grocery store. Yet cyclists are routinely told that their destinations are somehow less legitimate, that their mobility should be relegated to the margins.
Cyclists want to go to the same places motorists do — because they are the same people, simply choosing a different mode of travel.
Self‑serving narratives have crowded out lived experience. Polarization has replaced problem‑solving. Cycling — an activity that 3.2 million Ontarians do weekly or daily — has been turned into a proxy battle for something it is not.
Our polling at Share the Road confirms what most of us already know: 22% of Ontarians cycle at least weekly, and 87% of us are cyclists, motorists, pedestrians, and transit users. We are not separate tribes. We are the same people, moving through our communities in different ways depending on the day, the weather, the trip, or the need.
The wedge politics that frame cycling as “you versus me” is not only false — it’s harmful. It pits neighbours against one another while doing nothing to solve the real crises facing our cities: affordability, congestion, mental and physical wellbeing. And the irony is that cycling is a solution to all of them.
Cycling is one of the most affordable ways to get around. It reduces congestion because every person on a bike means fewer cars on the road. It improves mental health, physical health, and community connection. Cycling is a climate solution hiding in plain sight. And yet, instead of embracing it, we are watching it become a casualty of culture‑war politics.
This is not just a Toronto story. Across Ontario, municipal candidates are being told — implicitly or explicitly — that cycling is politically dangerous. That building bike lanes is a risk. That supporting active transportation is a liability. That the loudest voices define the public will.
And this is exactly why, at the Ontario Bike Summit taking place later this month in Toronto, municipal leaders, planners, engineers, staff, and advocates will gather to explore these themes — to share knowledge, confront the polarization challenge head‑on, and discuss how to change the narrative. Because the consequences of the province’s decisions ripple far beyond Toronto.
Rural municipalities and small towns, many of which are working hard to attract tourists seeking cycling and active travel experiences, are feeling the impact too. When provincial choices constrain local action, communities across Ontario lose opportunities to build safer streets, support local economies, and welcome visitors who want to explore by bike.
The loudest voices are not the largest group. They are simply the most amplified.
The real story is quieter, steadier, and far more representative: millions of Ontarians want to cycle more often. They want safer streets. They want choices. They want communities where getting to work, school, or the grocery store doesn’t require navigating fear.
As we enter the cut and thrust of municipal campaigns, it’s impossible to ignore the role of the Ontario government — because municipalities are creatures of the province. The decisions made at Queen’s Park shape what cities can build, fund, and prioritize. And right now, those decisions are being influenced by a culture war that has nothing to do with the lived reality of Ontarians who simply want safer, more connected communities.
Culture wars make for compelling headlines. They do not make for good policy.
The stakes are high. The choices made by voters in this election — and the choices made by the province— will define the future of our cities for decades. Will we build communities that reflect how people actually move? Will we invest in infrastructure that supports health, affordability, and resilience? Will we listen to evidence instead of outrage? Will we allow polarization to continue shaping decisions that affect millions of people who are simply trying to get home safely?
I think back often to that conversation in 2014 — to Premier Wynne’s insistence that lived experience matters, that adversity can be a source of clarity, that policy can be a tool for change. She was right. And that truth feels even more urgent now.
We can choose a different path. One that is centred on people, not politics. One that recognizes cycling not as a symbol in a culture war, but as a practical, human‑scale solution to the challenges facing our cities.
It’s a path that honours the stories — including mine — that have shaped Ontario’s cycling movement. The culture war is loud, but it quiets the moment we listen to people — because protecting their safety, with evidence not ideology, is what must guide our decisions and our city building.
The Hon. Eleanor McMahon is a former Ontario cabinet minister, executive and cycling safety advocate who work has shaped provincial and national active transportation policy. She founded the Share the Road Cycling Coalition in 2007 and now chairs the board. She also leads McMahon Public Affairs and Communications and serves on several other boards.
