athleticgals.com

There was a time -april -a mere year ago, in fact- when my car was beyond reasonably saving.  It wasn’t worth the cost of repairs.  The weather was warm, the spring was new, gas prices were skyrocketing unpredictably, and I was unreasonably motivated to get fitter than ever before.  Well, thought I, lets just see how long I can comfortably live without a car, anyhow.  I’m a city kid, I can hack it.  So I replaced that car with a bike.  A snazzy looking number by Specialized, my Crossroads has a swooping crossbar that strongly appealed to my aesthetic sense and a sturdy rack for carrying saddlebags stuffed with more stuff than you’d believe I could get on a bike.  This was to be my vehicle, after all, my main means of transport for a while.  I got a headlight and a strobing tail light.  I picked out a funky bike helmet.  I was off.

Understand that I live by the big airport in my city.  My dogs and I walk down to look at the airport lights and watch the behemoths land every night.  Alas, I work at the small airport all the way across town.  Much pavement lay between where I slept and where  worked.  I was undeterred.

I fell in love with the early morning chill and the sultry dripping noons.  I learned to bike in the night.  I outran thunderstorms, thrilling to the challenge of biking in the rain.  I gloried in the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.  The mists and floods along parkways felt like secrets I’d discover on my way to work that few others in my world were going to know.

It’s funny how much more intimately you feel you know a city when you’ve been cruising it by bicycle.  You’re not too fast to see the sights.  You’d better see those sights in fact, exposed as you are.  A car is a bubble isolating you from everyone else.  On a bike, you make sure to catch the eye of the drivers before you move anywhere near them.  It feels so much more personal to wait for them to return your nod than the simple watching for the other car to move that we’re all so used to in our competing elephantine machines.  The wind makes a difference in travel time; it’s hard not to take headwinds and tailwinds seriously and sometimes personally; the kind of day where it’s a headwind both ways gets you down.  Sussing out each car as you bike by it to be sure nobody is about to throw their door open  in front of you is a survival skill.  The time exists to really see each person walking the sidewalk.  Delightful adventures were had.  I can tell you which roving taco carts are worth tracking down and I brake for ice cream shops of every description.  I can also tell you which parts of the city I won’t ever be biking through again.  You can’t help but notice how people’s gardens change with the passing of the season in a way you can’t possibly catch when zipping by motorized and behind glass.  Biking made me more aware of the smells of a city.  The lilacs, the barbecue, the bus exhaust, the peonies, the steaming asphalt after a torrential downpour are all so much more real.  And vital.  And strikingly lovely.  I felt a part of the world in a way I don’t usually.  Our indoor lives change our perspectives more than we realize, I think, and now I know what I was missing.

Fall came and like a responsible adult, I got myself a new set of wheels.  Maybe just in time-one knee was starting to suggest the beginnings of some overuse issues.  Looking back, while it’s always nice to get where you’re going in a hurry, the romance and self sufficiency of getting there under my own power has been unforgettable.  I’d been missing it.  So this week, I got back on the bike to make the trek across town again, just for fun.  My phone rang enroute.  I find inexplicable delight in answering my phone on the bike, though the wisdom of doing so is debatable at best.

“Hullo?”

“What are you doing?” my mother asked.

“Biking to work.”

“Oh no!  Again?  What’s wrong?!?  How can neither of your cars be running?” she practically wailed with dismay.  It took some convincing before she’d believe that this was just for the joy of it.  It’s official: I’ve become one of those weirdos who bikes all over high hell just for giggles.  And ice cream.  Don’t forget the ice cream.  Or the tacos, actually…

So.  Now I know that in order to feel as though I really know and am a part of the places I travel past and through, I’ll need to see them from my bike at least every once in a while.  I always marvel at the truths I’d have missed if all had gone according to plan.  Sometimes losing what you thought you needed really can open up a whole new world.    ~DG