People tend to get a little obsessed with their bikes. It starts out innocently, with the “wow, look at me mom” as they first learn how to maneuver the difficult contraption. Next, it becomes the first thing towards eventual freedom. You go around with your friends as a little kid and pretend like you have real freedom.
The usual scenario would be that you’d get into your 20s and the thing would sit in a corner somewhere. As you sat in front of countless computer screens for the duration of your free time, you’d look longing at that rusting hulk of metal, wondering where all the time went. You’d look down at your extended belly and figure that it might be time. But slowly, almost unconsciously, that time would continue to be somewhere in the near future.
Now, now the future is now. People spend inordinate amounts of time and money on bikes. Vintage bikes, cool like decorations, are placed onto them just another thing to have a commodity fetish for. Usually mountain bikes are looked down upon, since the idea is to conserve energy. You have somewhere to go.
I decided at some point to do the exact opposite. Rather than spend a huge amount of money on a bike, I bought mine for $40. Whenever I go anywhere, I don’t lock it. If you steal it, who cares, all I need to do is scrounge together two $20s and I’m set. An appealing light shade of bike colors my SUV of a mountain bike. Huge amounts of trapped energy are released each time I use it.
Some bike in groups. I don’t. Part of the joy is not having anybody to speak to as you pick a random direction to bike in. Of course there are places I’m supposed to go, but my goal is to find new ways of getting there. Those new ways don’t necessarily have to be efficient; in fact, I usually prefer that they are not. Just wandering around aimlessly can be great.
Every weekend (if it is nice out) I try to go around for about 2-3 hours. As soon as I manage to get my bike down the stairs, I pick a direction and go. This weekend I got to find new neighborhoods and even more Italian Ice places to stop at. My bike has taught me the joy of silence, and to find the sound of coasting absolutely therapeutic.
I’m just really pleased with you bicycle. Even though I ask so little of you, you provide me with more happiness than I could ever want. You’ve taught me how to be a better person and how to enjoy being alone.
Heart you so much bike. Don’t change a thing.