“Where you going?”
“To the store.”
“For what?”
“Coffee.”
“On your bike?”
“Yep.”
“Cool.”
This little reinforcing exchange with my 12 year old son cemented my commitment to ride instead of drive wherever I could. I recognize that I can’t completely get rid of my car, but I can keep it parked for much more than I drive it. And this short 1 mile trip to the store to get coffee was my way to start.
I’m nervous about the attempt to bike to work tomorrow. My Bike is a 15 year old Gary Fisher hard tail mountain bike, and is not in great working order. I haven’t done a great job caring for it. It’s rusted and squeaks a lot and I think the rear hub is about through. The front derailleur hasn’t worked in a while, so I have only been able to stay on the middle chain ring, which turned my 21 speed into a 7. I took the bike to my friend’s house today where we discovered the problem was a front derailleur spring that was so rusted, it was frozen. A little pushing and pulling, and a few squirts of lubricant, and I had 21 gears restored, though I’m skeptical they will stay with me for the whole ride tomorrow. I’m getting old too, and a little rusty. I’m not out of shape necessarily, but I’m not really conditioned for this ride. I’m not a cyclist. In fact while I respected bicyclists I saw on the street, I always thought they were a little off for being out there, with the cars. I haven’t ever biked 25 miles. My thighs screamed after the first hill out of my driveway, and I worried about how I was going to get through the big intersection at route one. Maybe the decision to start to ride to work tomorrow is a bad one.
But my ride this morning added to my conviction, and gave me more reasons to bike to work. I am more exposed to my community when I ride. I saw a gold finch, morning glory and my neighbor. Once I was removed from my plastic and steel pod, my community became accessible and opportunities to connect became abundant. I said “good morning” to my neighbor as I rode by. She tried to turn away as I passed as usual and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see her as often happens from inside a car. We had to acknowledge each other, and connect. I think I’ll head out at 6 tomorrow morning. That should get me through the 25 miles and to work by 8.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Independence Day
Thought it fitting to start biking to work on this day
This was my way of raising a polite middle finger in salute to our elected officials, republicans, democrats, tea partiers, and every other ineffective politician who spend more time arguing their party lines than serving the American people, and to the corporations who own them. This was my protest to the corporate run country we call the United States. Of the people, by the people, for the people? Not any more. Of the corporation, for the corporation, by the corporation. Milo won. Me riding my bike the 25 miles to work was my way of freeing myself from the insanity of the syndicate. Like Yosarian, I am tired of having an involuntary share in M&M enterprises and want out. My bike is the out. Maybe this is the way Yosarian felt when he finally set off in the life raft. My bike got me off the oil treadmill.
I spent the last 6 months complaining about gas prices, but still I stuffed $60 per week into my tank. I still gave my money to the oil industry and the government, the same people who were screwing me, every other American and our environment. I realized that as long as I drove, the oil industry had me by the short hairs. I realized that I was far from free, and so July 4th, when we are supposed to celebrate the founding of this nation, really acknowledge what that means instead of giving grilled burger and faux patriotic lip service, I figured a way I could really acknowledge that freedom, was by freeing myself from the chains of big oil, and government taxes on that oil, and I decided to ride my bike to work. Wanna get off foreign oil? Park your car and ride your bike.
There are other reasons I want to ride to work instead of drive. Where I live, nitrogen is killing the Chesapeake Bay. Nitrogen that comes from us. Most blame cows, chickens and their farmers for the nitrogen problem. How can you point out a speck in your neighbors eye when there is a plank sticking out of yours? Leave the cows and chickens and farmers and other scape goat excuses alone, and look in your own house. Nitrogen comes from us suburbanites too. I’ve been saying this for years, but not acting on it. Talk is easy. The second largest source of nitrogen to the Chesapeake is motor vehicles. A regional conservation organization hands out save the bay bumper stickers. Car dealers give out save the bay license plate frames. Bumper stickers and license plate frames won’t do it. It takes action. Biking to work is my way of crumpling up those bumper stickers and stuffing them in places they belong. You really want to save the Bay? Get out of your car and bike.
It was time I quit complaining, got off my ass and did something. I finally decided to cut through the bs excuses in my own life, get real, and get riding. I decided to get free of the oil nipple.
This was my way of raising a polite middle finger in salute to our elected officials, republicans, democrats, tea partiers, and every other ineffective politician who spend more time arguing their party lines than serving the American people, and to the corporations who own them. This was my protest to the corporate run country we call the United States. Of the people, by the people, for the people? Not any more. Of the corporation, for the corporation, by the corporation. Milo won. Me riding my bike the 25 miles to work was my way of freeing myself from the insanity of the syndicate. Like Yosarian, I am tired of having an involuntary share in M&M enterprises and want out. My bike is the out. Maybe this is the way Yosarian felt when he finally set off in the life raft. My bike got me off the oil treadmill.
I spent the last 6 months complaining about gas prices, but still I stuffed $60 per week into my tank. I still gave my money to the oil industry and the government, the same people who were screwing me, every other American and our environment. I realized that as long as I drove, the oil industry had me by the short hairs. I realized that I was far from free, and so July 4th, when we are supposed to celebrate the founding of this nation, really acknowledge what that means instead of giving grilled burger and faux patriotic lip service, I figured a way I could really acknowledge that freedom, was by freeing myself from the chains of big oil, and government taxes on that oil, and I decided to ride my bike to work. Wanna get off foreign oil? Park your car and ride your bike.
There are other reasons I want to ride to work instead of drive. Where I live, nitrogen is killing the Chesapeake Bay. Nitrogen that comes from us. Most blame cows, chickens and their farmers for the nitrogen problem. How can you point out a speck in your neighbors eye when there is a plank sticking out of yours? Leave the cows and chickens and farmers and other scape goat excuses alone, and look in your own house. Nitrogen comes from us suburbanites too. I’ve been saying this for years, but not acting on it. Talk is easy. The second largest source of nitrogen to the Chesapeake is motor vehicles. A regional conservation organization hands out save the bay bumper stickers. Car dealers give out save the bay license plate frames. Bumper stickers and license plate frames won’t do it. It takes action. Biking to work is my way of crumpling up those bumper stickers and stuffing them in places they belong. You really want to save the Bay? Get out of your car and bike.
It was time I quit complaining, got off my ass and did something. I finally decided to cut through the bs excuses in my own life, get real, and get riding. I decided to get free of the oil nipple.
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