Three years ago Margaret Palmieri died after being hit by a car while riding her bike. Her husband, Jim Palmieri, a cycling enthusiast who bought Margaret her first bike, hasn't stopped riding.

On Wednesday, Palmieri led a group of about 40 cyclists on a slow, silent ride through Southwest Roanoke to commemorate all the cyclists who have been injured or killed by cars. At the same time, other cyclists across the country were taking part in a similar tour, billed as the "Ride of Silence."

The local group, mostly members of the Blue Ridge Bicycle Club wearing cycling shorts and bright shirts, gathered at Cave Spring Junior High School to ride over to Patrick Henry High School and back.

They rode up Brambleton Avenue, taking up one of the road's two northbound lanes, a fluorescent wave bobbing on top of pumping legs. When they got to the spot near Fishburn Park where Brambleton narrows to two lanes, several cars honked and tried to pass the mob of silent cyclists who had taken over the pavement. After a while, a clump of cars was inching along behind the cyclists.

It wasn't hard to see how riders could get clipped.

According to the Virginia State Police, there were nine cyclists killed and 834 injured in crashes with motor vehicles in 2004, the latest year for which online statistics are available.

Most recently in Roanoke, a man was killed after a car struck his bicycle Dec. 23. He died a few days later.

It's not uncommon for cyclists to be on the receiving end of abuse from drivers, said Todd Fisher, a 10-year cycling veteran.

"I was on Penn Forest Boulevard one day last summer going up the hill and some lady in a Volvo comes by and for no reason blows the horn and flips me the bird," he recalled. "I blew her a kiss."

Fisher said he likes to point out that both bicycles and roads were around before the car was invented.

As the cyclists made their way to Patrick Henry, a rainbow appeared, which made Palmieri think of his wife.

"The day after she died, there was a rainbow," he said later.

Palmieri was wearing a shirt printed with the word "Bretagne" and the outline of the French coastal region of Brittany.

"One of the last rides I had with her, we went to France," he said.

After Margaret died, Palmieri set up a scholarship in her name at the Virginia College of Osteopathic Medicine, where he teaches. The first recipient just happened to be an avid cyclist, he said.

When the riders reached Patrick Henry, they didn't stop for long. They admired the rainbow and exchanged a few words. Then they turned their bikes around, clicked their shoes back onto the pedals and headed back.