Yesterday, a few days into Autumn, the heat of the summer finally broke. I awoke to a chill in the air and the mid-afternoon temperature peaked in the low 70's. What a great evening for a enjoying the weather on my bike, and so I made good on the promise of a long ride.
Here's a poem that captures some of that spirit by Michael Schein entitled "Autumn."
On the first day of Autumn, a chrysalis day of slanted light, I am drawn back to my bike, the steel Bianchi I rode one-hunredth of the way to the moon this year, then abandoned in August to the spiders.
Oh, what joy, to be pedaling again into the headlong rush of the September breeze, into bird songs and swirling sepia leaves, past sculls cutting the canal, my purring crank and derailleur a clockwork of wheels within wheels shifting light and dark like this gloaming Equinox.
A bicycle is balance and momentum, the music of the spheres distilled in steel or aluminum. It requires no balance to ride in an automobile: one devours terrain oblivious to its texture, to pleasure or pain, lusting only for the destination.
Perched on my saddle, I am soft and observant as the day I was born, calm as in my mother's arms.
"It's as easy as riding a bicycle" we say, and it is easy, this gentle machine, the most efficient way to transmit our small strength into motion. With ninety-nine more such autumns and the solar wind pressing me forward, I believe I could pedal to the moon, and never miss a single hummingbird.
God on a bike going twenty miles and hour over speed ramps, ignoring the pinch-space cars that would topple him, helmetless and roaring at road-ragers, mobile phone users, the guess-where-I'm-going school of motorist. His long white beard parts in the wind.
God speed, God. He stops at red lights if he has to, but prefers to sail through. Lycra shorts in all weathers, hairy legs, pistoning past churches and bingo halls. God on a bike is good news. He knows when to apply severe body torque.
God's a rock hopper, a weekend mud churner, a star on wheels. He can fix a puncture in five minutes flat, slalom through gravel, go twenty-four hours without sleeping. He's the captain of the Cat and Fiddle, Box Hill, C2C. He's a mashed gear man.
God cycles forty days and forty nights alone in the wilderness. He stokes up on Mars Bars, forks more transport cafe breakfasts, smokes more fags than I could. He's a seven-day wonder. The whole world in a week. That's God the father.
Son Jesus does his own repairs, prefers Reynolds tubing. He's had the same frame for thirty odd years. He wears toe clips that bruise his feet - that's what comes of wearing sandals. A chain guard keeps his robes clean.
There's a silver bell he rings each time he rounds a bend in case of donkeys or a man carrying a bed. Jesus on a bike does the shopping. Bread and fish fingers, a little wine. Abstemious Jesus with hair in a ponytail under a kitemarked helmet.
There's an orange flag on a stick to warn drivers to stay clear. Jesus isn't fearful just careful. He carries batteries and cables, a cape for bad weather. He's chairman of a club. Twelve good mates. Though one's a bit suspect. Drives a car that cost thirty thou. Flash git, Judas.
Wenzday Jane of Metro Pedal Power in Boston is burning up the pavement (and calories) with a new in-town delivery service.
Her fleet of 500-pound-capacity, waterproof bike trailers scoot around town carbon-free. A typical load might be a stack of fresh locally-grown vegetables on their way to Boston restaurants. It saves time and money for the farmer and restaurateur while freeing up the streets of large delivery vans.
Great idea, Wenzday.
Boston Globe reporter Wendy Maeda, in a report entitled Mettle to the Pedal, give the rundown.
Last week I flipped over on my bike and came to terms with the asphalt pavement.
It was a sudden and stunning development.Out of nowhere, a savage concrete curb - otherwise knownas a ”No Entry (or Exit)” sign to cars - appeared beneath me, disconnecting two perfectly good parking lots.
And there I lay, contemplating the possibilities and nuances of bike-friendly street design.OK, that last part might be hyperbole, but the thought did briefly cross my mind.
Now, with a clearer head, the question begs to be considered:Instead of frontier justice for cyclists, what if we integrated a system of bike paths into the fabric of our cities and towns?What would happen?
For starters, more people would ride bikes.When dedicated bike routes are convenient, clearly marked and connected, a ride to work or school becomes a desirable option.And step one of a recreational bike ride does not necessarily involve strapping a bike to the back of an automobile.
As a sustainable practice, biking cuts down on fossil fuel use and does not pollute the environment; riding a bike burns calories, not gas and oil.
And the health benefits of regular cycling are obvious.Americans have become ever more obese as auto-dependency has increased. (Who has time to go to the gym with all that driving around?)Why not exercise daily as part of the normal commute?
Biking is a sensory experience.Being in touch with the elements fosters a greater awareness of the surrounding environment.Biking promotes social interaction; try communicating with someone in a fast-passing car.
But it doesn’t stop there.Real money is at stake.
The economic benefits of a cycle-friendly environment include lower health care costs and higher property values.The requisite number of automobiles needed for living a “normal” existence decreases along with associated car maintenance, gas and insurance costs. A hike in biking results in a reduced number of cars on the street extending the road’s surface life.Traffic congestion is relieved allowing shorter travel times and a more pleasant commute for those who do drive.
Here’s the trade-off.Pay a little more for adding bike lanes when it’s time to resurface existing roadways, and we reap the benefit of a higher and healthier quality of life along with the aforementioned economic plusses.
For generations now, the car has ruled as transportation planners designed roads solely for the ease and convenience of the automobile, sacrificing cyclists and pedestrians in the process.By default, the jacked-up price of full participation in society has become one vehicle per adult.
But there is a concept for addressing a wider menu of transportation options than just automobiles - it’s called “complete streets” and involves accommodating bike and pedestrian traffic with equal vigor.In most cases, this can be accomplished without acquiring additional right-of-ways.
Isn’t it time we recycle the way we think about bicycles?
Nothing makes the point like a timely 3-D art installation. James Moore, proprietor of a local bike shop, fashioned this nice assembly in full view of the "$4-a-gallon" parade. It instantly illustrates, in a very creative way, the ever increasing cost benefits of riding a bike instead of always defaulting to automobile transportation.
James is a great example of being the change you want to see. A long-time bike shop owner and, more recently a city alderman, he is a tireless advocate of "complete streets" and was instrumental in the creating of a local recreational bike trail - a Rails-to-Trails project - now 39 miles in length with additional construction in the works.
"Turn any car into a hybrid" he explains, "by attaching a bike rack to your vehicle." Drive in to work, park your car and run local errands on your bike - brilliant!
And James is slowly educating me on bike-riding etiquette and safety issues. A great example of why buying local is a key element of sustainable living. No Wal-Mart sales associate, cheap Chinese Huffy in box, will ever give you the "hows and whys" of biking 101, but at this local shop, it comes naturally.
In Hattiesburg, Mississippi, the Greyhound Bus station sits way out on the edge of the city, near the Interstate. Presumably, its more convenient for the bus company. Fair enough.
One problem.
You can only get there by car.
But wait a minute! If you're taking the bus, you just might not have a.!.!.!, (long exasperated sigh.) Moving on.
The bus stop's remote location makes it impractical to walk there from anywhere even if there were any sidewalks around. And of course, no sidewalks in sight.
This is a perfect example of how sprawl fails us as a practical layout for living.
In contrast, the village structure - a dense centralized node of commercial and public space surrounded by housing - lends itself to a number of transportation options.
With denser development in the center village (including multi-level apartments/condos) and surrounding single family homes within walking distance, sidewalks make sense.
Walking immediately becomes a convenient and viable way of getting around.
Biking becomes an option as well.
A bus stop within walking distance of most of the population makes taking the bus a realistic proposition.
Same applies with trains.
Segways, golf carts, roller blades - the options are many.
Ergo, Freedom!
In the New American Village, owning a car disappears as the "price of admission." Healthy and convenient ways to get around abound.
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