Coffeeneuring 2015!

   Its that time again! Wow, the year has flown by, and already its time to get that fall maintenance over and done with so coffeeneuring can begin. For those of you who've never heard of it it goes something like this; you bike a total of two miles, consume a warm drink, write about/take a picture of it, and you do it at least once a weekend for seven weekends. That's the basic gist of it. There is, of course, a bit more to it, so check out the Official 2015 page to learn about it and get started.
    Of course I've already picked out which spots I'll be heading to this year, as well as back-up-places in case a grand fail like last year's spectacular laughable case, wherein I hunted down two shops before I settled on one without walls. I picked out the spots back in September because, in spite of factors that limit my own caffeine consumption, its just so much fun. Don't worry, if you have caffeine limits too there's plenty of other options, (tea, cider, hot coco, etc). As for myself, its probably going to be a lot of decaf tea and steamers, but really, its about continuing my quest.
    I still haven't found a coffee place like the ones I had back North. I was, though by no means monogamous, fond of the places where I partook of the sweet black nectar. In spite of seven attempts last year I was unable to find that special place for me. That one shop that I'd go to at least two time a month, not because I can't make my own coffee, but because that's where I enjoy going. Though to be fair, I have found my favorite yogurt stand, which is pretty good, but I digress.
    This year I continue my quest! That noble pursuit of any writer worth her salt. Not the completion of some grand work, no, the true core of any writer is seeking a coffee house where they both add a certain atmosphere, and really take up that one sweet table spot for like, way to long. On top of which, as a cyclist, I really ought to be ashamed I haven't found a good spot. I mean, honestly, I ride all over the place, I'm pretty sure I've been down most of the streets of Seattle on Scamper. I just rarely ever stop. I mean, yes I stop to rest myself on occasion, but I've been far to focused on forests to be hunting any haunts.
    Though speaking of Scamper, this will be his first year as a coffeeneuring bike. Pinkie Pie is actually back in use by my husband since Barry is down for repairs. Therefore, its up to scrappy little Scamper to pick flag.
Without further ado, here are the coffeeneuring shops I've picked:

*10/3 or 10/4

One Cup Coffee Co

16743 Aurora ave N Seattle

10/10 or 10/11

Cafe Aroma

509 NE 165th St Seattle

10/17 or 10/18

Kaffeeklatsch Seattle

12513 Lake City Way NE Seattle

10/24 or 10/25

Bark Espresso 

11335 Roosevelt Way NE Seattle

10/31 or 11/1

Chickalatte Aurora

10733 Aurora ave N Seattle

11/7 or 11/8

Lylas Family Espresso

8958 Aurora ave N Seattle

11/14 or 11/15

Cloud City Coffee

8801 Roosevelt Way NE 

Now you may have noticed there is one place that's a repeat from last year, Cafe Aroma, while it was an okay shop, not certainly that special place I was looking for, it is probably the closest shop. That's pretty much the only reason it gets an encore. Since I haven't been to the shop since last year I feel I ought to see if at least one of the places I went last year installed a bike rack. And, no, Bridgewater Coffee House, as far as I know, never fulfilled their word on getting a rack put in. 

    This weekend I'll be hitting the One Cup Coffee place, which is pretty new. Hopefully one of the seven places will have a bike rack some should since they're in Seattle and not Shoreline, I've cruised past Bark Espresso a few times and it seems quite promising, if a bit far for me to pick as a regular place. 

   Lastly, since themes are the thing this year I've decided to be as bold as I'm capable of being in terms of themes (college made me very wary of any event involving a "theme") and decided with the theme of.....

Funky Socks! 

Yeah, look at that, you know those socks will... knock yours off? Actually, I'm not entirely sure I have seven different pairs of weird socks, but I know I have more than 3 and I can always steal a pair of my husbands mustache socks (sorry love, but I mustache you to let me!) to make it work. Huh... I'm going to go count my socks...

*I may hit two shops in one weekend, I may skip a weekend, these times aren't a pledge, just a rough idea. 

Such a thing as seasons

     With the end of summer most people consider this the end of the cycling season. Personally, this summer emphasized how much I really dislike riding in the warmer season. No helmet is really comfortable, and as such I pretty much discarded mine for an indefinite time. In fact, I've gotten so used to riding sans helmet that I'm not sure I'll go back. You have no idea how much more space cars give you until you do, in fact my husband now refuses to wear a helmet because he feels safer without one.
     As a disclaimer however, a friend of mine recently fell of her bike and got a concussion. I don't know if she was wearing a helmet or not, but just a reminder head injuries do happen.
     The seasons change, I recently changed jobs so theoretically I'll be able to balance time better. Its a closer commute for one, no more downtown riding on a daily basis, no more near death experiences trying to cross on foot on 3rd and Union (that crosswalk is a death trap). Now my daily commute is for the most part on slow residential streets. Though, unfortunately I have to climb Mt. Roosevelt St., you know, the part of Roosevelt that's just a straight fucking 180 degree angle, for some reason, lacking a Trondheim lift, and a bike lane right in the dooring lane. Oh, and going northbound downhill at night, beware of a huge bump in the pavement that will knock you off your bike, there's no street light in that spot and if you aren't careful you will crash. Not that the manhole covers are a joy either, and you have to bike on those if you aren't brave enough to risk "taking the lane," The last time I did that someone kept flashing their headlights, creating an effective deadly blinding effect.
     Aside from that one horrible section, its not bad as a commute goes. Though I'll admit I sometime cheat and ride the bus up the hill, folding Scamper and stowing him inside with me.
    It was on one such day, recently, that a gentleman and I struck up a conversation. I noticed he was the rider of the rusty well loved upright on the front rack, and he admired the utility of Scamper. He remarked mournfully that it was "the end of the cycling season," to which I couldn't help but express disbelief such a thing as there being one season for cycling. I mean, yes, it is the end of the Summer Cycling Season, but that just means its the beginning of the Autumn Cycling Season. And seriously, aren't we lucky to live in a place that HAS an autumn?
      Summer cycling for me is just utterly depressing. It wasn't just time constraints, and unmentioned health issues, that forced fewer posts, it was the awful torture that is summer cycling that made me fall silent. The principle of if you don't have something nice to say and all. But I'm going to make a defense against the so called "joy of the summer" and all that it brings:

Seven Reasons Summer Cycling Sucks

1) The lack of parking. This is a first and foremost complaint, if people cycling just a few months longer after summer, shops would give in and install cycle parking. All the year long cyclist bemoan this sad state, but for some reason we're stuck in the this cycle. Maybe if we pointed summer cycling is the worst people would want to give cycling in other seasons a try.

2) Bugs. Bugs in your teeth, bugs in your bag, flying around you. Ever hit a bee going downhill? That's a no win for both parties.

3)  A more personal note, I despise warmer temperatures. Any degree above 73 Fahrenheit and my body starts rejecting clothes like a bad transplant. I don't retain body heat well due to blood flow issues so you'd think warmer temperatures would be great. The truth is I'd rather put on a sweater than bike in just my bra and short shorts, but the heat makes this impossible.

4) On a further personal note, I have UV sensitivity issues, not only does this limit my rides in the summer because I've stripped down because of the heat, I'm super fucking blind on cloudless days. Oh sure with my sunglasses I can see, but if I break or loose them (and people, they are sunglasses, that shit is made to get lost and broken) I'm stuck.

5) Summer is nice, but it makes the scenery rather uniform. Especially in Seattle. Green, green, and oh hey, more green. But, in the fall, its all reds, oranges, yellows, in vibrant contrast to the ever present green. Sure, the summer is nice, but autumn is really the time to bike and get close to all the colors.

6) Spiders. Spiders everywhere. You notice how fall brings out the spiders around here? You can't outrun them. Get on your bike, escape Shelob.

7) Coffee rides anyone? Sure summer is the time for lots of group rides, but that doesn't end with the summer. Autumn is just as full of social rides. As kids go back to school and meet up with friends, social rides are just the thing to catch up on what's been happening all summer. Coffeeneuring kicks off the first of the autumn ride challenges, and the events never stop.

     So if you didn't enjoy cycling this summer, don't worry, for whatever reason, you weren't alone. I'd recommend cycling in the fall, you don't have to keep going into winter, even I go through cycling pauses in the winter, and rarely do flakes of frost fall upon this part of the Pacific Northwest. Just try cycling through the autumn, say, late August through the last bit of November. Its just like riding in Spring, only less bugs, less heat, and more colors,

Taking my business elsewhere

It took me a day to calm down enough to write this. To be honest, I'm still not entirely calm about it, but here it is:

My husband got kicked out of McDonalds for bringing his bike inside with him. 

Let's rewind this to a couple weeks ago, when my husband's ride, Mute, gave up the ghost, rolled up the choir invisible, or in terms cyclists get; the pedal shafts were stripped, the gear-sprocket shot, & it was declared unfit for riding (safely). Ben got Mute the same time I got Pinkie Pie, and Mute certainly did put in his time, though short. Mute hauled groceries, Christmas purchases, surprise delights, and most importantly, my husband's finely sculpted butt, all over. But time and tide got the best of the big boned Magna, and, beyond repair, it was time to get him another set of wheels. 

He bucked the notion of a folding bike at first, it was fine for me, and my needs, but he liked to break out the trailer. (If we had kept on driving, I'm pretty sure my husband would've bought a minivan by now) While he favors using a back pack for daily use, he wasn't keen of having a bike that lacked a trailer capacity. Unfortunately, most folding bikes do not have the capacity to have a trailer attached, and he hates using Pinkie because "its hauling a tank" though he does like the upright.

However, after a lot of discussion he ended up purchasing a spanking sparkly Citizen Miami. Which he named Barry. 

After Dave Barry. Yep. I still love him. 

Within two weeks he's become a folding fool, and strangely, he's able to keep up with me a lot better on a bike with smaller wheels than his previous one.  Barry's wheels are only two inches bigger than Scamper, my beloved ride, making him equally portable, but more easy to load on a bus. Ben takes pride in Barry like no other bike he's owned, I caught a glimmer of love in his eyes as he pulls it onto the driveway and asks, "Ready?" before each ride. 

So yesterday he took his bike to the McDonald's I went to after a fellow folding bike rider got the cops called on him for bringing a folding bike into, last year. You see, I found the story so upsetting last year I promptly took my own in to a local McD's to see if the same would happen. 

 I didn't get funny looks, and I most certainly didn't get kicked out. 

Ben, in his enthusiasm, went to do the same, and was promptly kicked out. He tried showing them how small Barry folded, but no dice. They didn't let him order, didn't offer to let him go through the drive through instead.

Oh, did I mention this particular McD's is off the Interurban Trail and has NO BIKE RACK?  Yeah, they apparently, even in the face of plummeting sales, aggressively, turn away business.

Now maybe I didn't get kicked out because my skin tone is that of a saltine cracker and he is swarthy (those handsome Mediterranean looks have gotten him mistaken for all kinds of different ethnicities). But I can tell you it had NOTHING to do with his personality without even having been there myself. You know why?

My husband is possibly the kindest man who has ever walked the face of the earth. Like maybe he's Saint Francis reincarnated. He is ridiculously genteel and absurdly understanding. His empathy rivals that of Diane on StarTrek-TNG. He is soft-spoken, with an even emotional keel. Oh, and before you chalk it up to how he was dressed, he's no middle aged man in lycra, nor does he dress like a "punk" or whatever we're calling young miscreants these days.

So why could they have possibly kicked him out? Was it his race? Was it his gender? Because if you let a woman-who-can-totally-pass-as-white bring in her folding bike do it, you have to let everyone bring their bike in. Or install a rack. Like anyone in Shoreline does that!

Meanwhile, if you're looking for a place to grab a bite, as a cyclist, if go just a little further down the trail, past the Sears, there's a Shake N'Go, the owner WANTS you to bring your bike inside. Went there last week and our bikes were just as welcome as our bodies. In fact, we were going to park outside, but he insisted we bring our rides in, fearing they'd get stolen, or just that we wouldn't enjoy our meal if we were worrying about our bikes.

In telling me about getting kicked out of a McDonalds for bringing his bike inside, my husband expressed confusion, "They're on Main Street, right next to the trail," he grumbled, "why didn't they put up shop on a highway if they didn't want bikes?"
"Main Street?" I asked, "Aurora isn't main street, its a highway!"
"No baby," he patiently explained, "The I-5 is a highway,"  he pointed, "the I-90 is a highway," he pointed again, "and the," I stop him before he starts listing every interstate route Washington contains.
"My Love," I tell him, "Aurora IS a highway, its the George Washington Highway, the I-99, its not a main street like we know main streets, its a honest to goodness... Like expressway," I finish.
"What? No, it runs right through the middle of town. That's a main street. It should have people walking on it, and store fronts that,"
"But they voted on it," I interrupt. I have no idea why he puts up with me just doing that, "They decided before we got here that they didn't want a street, they wanted a corridor,"
"That's stupid, it cuts right through the middle of town!" he grumbled. I sighed. We both stared down the stretch of Aurora.

Aurora is a nice street... if you're a car. Or a motel. Or a fast food joint. Or if you want to buy or wash a car. But it isn't good for anything else. Especially its community.

Healthy Attitude

I'm not what you'd call a "healthy" cyclist. I've touched a bit on this in the past, but I'm pretty well hobbled for those of you just joining. I have a myriad of health difficulties that will forever keep me from being at the front of any racing pack, and some difficulties which keep me from cycling regularly. That has never diminished my love of cycling, however, I still grin at getting in the saddle, even on bad days when I really shouldn't be riding anywhere, and I still cheer on random folks who are confused by the sudden appearance of a personal cheerleader. What can I say? I come from a small town and I'm still not used to seeing someone and then never seeing them again. Besides, sometimes, like today, I'll shout "GO PRONTO!" to a rider and get a "WHOO!" back so I count it as totally worth it.

But being a less than healthy cyclist gives me a perspective few in the saddle get until they reach old age. The shame that comes with being a less than healthy cyclist is real, and palpable. Its easy to forget about, or even ignore, because the cycling community longs to see its members in the saddle again; casual commuters are bolstered like Lycra clad heroes, wounded racers are sent well wishes like grizzled war veterans (some actually are), and of course, the ever palpable joy of seeing old friends on group rides who you haven't seen in ages. If you remark you're unable to ride, dozens of riders will offer to add a mile or two to their ride, for you. Truly, people on bikes tend to be some of the most supportive and outgoing individuals you'll meet across the world, from the Philippines to Minneapolis/St. Paul.

Alas, there is a very real stigma to being a less than healthy cyclist, and sadly, this stigma comes from within.

You see others riding and want to be with them, you walk down the sidewalk, but your heart remembers what its like to sail along, and the mournful glance you cast at others cycling could be easily misinterpreted as the look of someone who lost a family member. The hills that once reminded you of roller coasters now resembles mountains, and you look around for a Sherpa.  You feel the urge to get back in the saddle, and your heart breaks when your body betrays you. The grip that was once so firm on the handlebars has become shaky, the legs that pumped away hills and miles becomes a millstone, and the breath that once filled you is exhaled in shaky gasps of pain. You look in the mirror and no longer see a champion of the wind and rain, but a defeated warrior against the perils of asphalt.

The stigma is internal yes, but no less real. It feels not just like a fall from grace, but a resonating disconnect between yourself and your community. Its like becoming having your voter I.D. changed to a different party without your consent. Its like...

Okay, let me tell you a story; you see once upon a time I lived in Alaska and I longed for spring each year, and, each year, I marked the arrival of spring by the blossoming of soft, downy, sweet scented pussy willows. This is how I knew I could ride again during winters when the snow was too deep for me. One day, in a craft store, I saw fake ones, and my heart leaped, if I could have that softness every day of the year... I grasped it, rubbing it to my face.

Only to be rewarded with a scratched cheek. I flung the faux willow away in disgust.

So I get on my bike, with hope in my heart, only to feel my body perform like a fake pussy willow.

Its not Scamper's fault. Its not Pinkie Pie's fault. Its not even really my own fault. There is only so much I'll ever be able to cycle, and I have to accept it. I have to accept that some days I will have to take the bus. I will have to accept that some days I won't be able to bike and that's okay. But I doubt it will ever feel okay, I think it will always break my heart just a little. I think there's a part of me that will never accept the defeat my body offers. Someday the pain will outweigh the joy, its not today, and probably not tomorrow, but it will happen someday.

And on that day I will sadly relinquish my stable to another rider, forcing them to promise to keep all the stickers on Scamper and all the bells on Pinkie. I'll give each one a gentle caress as they ride away without me, though the tears will be bittersweet.

Afterwards, I'll go back into my home and look at all the pictures of me and my stable, running my finger over the smile that once graced my face, remembering how the air felt in spring in those days, reminiscing over how fall smelt so sweet. Then, with a heavy heart, I'll board the bus, taking my husbands hand, the hand that helped me up after so many crashes, strengthened by the arms that held me through so many fits of despair.

Together we'll go, and speaking of our past adventures to each other, laughing at days past, we'll purchase e-assist bikes.

Because in the end I know I'll only stop when die for the third time. Its not a habit I can break, its my life. I breathe it in the saddle, and will only exhale it with my last breath.

My big beef with Seattle's Sacred Cow

Seattle holds its hills to be sacred. Read some of the cycling blogs surrounding Seattle and you might mistake our hills to be some religious experience. Whether its how the hills here build character and calves or how the hills here "cull" the "less dedicated" (paraphrasing), how much our hills add to the wonder of the ride, etc... You'd think that just going up Roosevelt Ave. would raise you to a guru status among those slow steel riders.
If you so happen to suggest that the hills could be made accessible in a variety of ways to the less physically able, or the less financially-able-to-buy-ebikes you'll hear a chorus of shouts that the hills are just fine how they are, its the responsibility of the rider to make the hill accessible to them.

And that's fucking bullshit.

We don't tell people they all need to buy 4 wheel drive to go on the road, we don't even tell people they need to buy cars that pollute less. But its the responsibility of the person on the bike to shape the roads to them.

That's a load of malarkey.  Trondheim is the number 1 bicycle city in the world [citation needed] and, don't you know, its got some hills that would make a San Franciscan shudder. But that didn't stop them from becoming number 1, instead they did this:

There's a toll, but I would rather pay a toll than try to save up enough to buy an eBike, or watch some old lady push her bike up Densmore. You know what's really heartbreaking? Knowing that there's people who'd love to cycle (I talk to them ALL THE TIME) but can't because the hills of Seattle are that big of a barrier. And no one listens to them.

You can say you have all kinds of barriers to cycling, but if you bring up hills you'd better be prepared to suck that up. Cyclist here don't care if you have shrapnel buried in your leg and you still want to ride, suck it up buttercup, because they'd rather see you give up than do what it takes to make the city accessible for you. After all, you'd just be another one of those slow riders and anyone who rides here knows that you'll get as much scorn for riding under 15 mph as you did for riding with training wheels. 

But until Seattle lets go of its ridiculous pride, its hilarious sanctity for endurance, and its petty love of being better than others, it will never be a bicycle town. 

Because everyone who says our hills are a barrier to that is RIGHT and we need to stop telling them that they are wrong. Because we can do better, Trampe lifts are A solution, but there's many solutions we can look at without putting the onus first on the cyclist. 

Because the onus should never be there first. Its always on us, as a society, to make cycling accessible for all. 

Challenge...declined actually

Another week has flown by and I (and other cyclists) only have 7 days left in our 30 Days of Biking Challenge. Most cyclists are already looking ahead to the next celebration/challenge/group event at this point are either planning their routes or plotting their courses. After all May is Bike Month and I'd be remiss not to mention Cascade's Bike Month Challenge in conjunction with Unlock Your City and anyone with two wheels and a saddle are welcome.
But I have to admit, myself, I'm a bit burned out already. Don't get me wrong, its been a joyful month of cycling, and I've had nothing but positive interactions with other 30DOB riders, whether on Twitter or in the frightening dimensions of the Real World. However, I sort of feel I've lost my spark, and riding just isn't helping that.

You would think all of these challenges and group rides would make me feel better, but they don't. In fact, they make me feel worse. Most of the events or challenges coming up have prizes for most miles logged, etc.. and that sort of thing has always made me feel like a failure before I've even tried. I only ever voluntarily participated in things growing up that gave out participant ribbons, so at least you could feel like a part of the event. My parents had me participate in sports, like most children, and I hated it, like many children. My team would always loose and have nothing to show for it. Before you tell me that I gained character or muscle or whatever, please keep in mind that shit means precisely zero to an undersized girl who was always being told various bullshit she put up with gave her character too, so why sweat for it? I hated grew to hate anything competitive because it would require me to be "mean" or at the very least less compassionate than I am naturally. Put it this way, back north the girls and I would have a night where we played cards and gossiped, and we all took turns winning. That meant we would often purposely 'throw' the game, but the point of the get together was not to show which of us was the best at cards, week after week, but to have fun with each other. If this meant the zombies occasionally ate me, I was fine with it.

Its why I loved the Coffeeneuring Challenge and the 30DOB challenge so much, the reward for both of these is the same for everyone who bikes. For Coffeeneurs its a patch, you don't get a special patch for being the most special cyclists, you get the same one as everyone else who participated that year, and instead of becoming a trophy it becomes a badge of inclusive honor. For 30DOB challengers they know that they got a child a bike, each one of us is just as important to 30DOB as the next. There is no special pledge for recumbent or uprights, each of us have equal value to the cause. 30DOB takes droplets and turns them into a storm.

I'm not the sort who goes in for random drawings either if you're wondering. I've never walked away from one feeling good about it, although because my name is never called in those cases I think that's an issue of behavioral training more than anything. At least in a video game I don't have to care how the drawing might affect someone else's feelings, at this point if I ever won a drawing I'd be upset because surely someone else more deserving should get it. And yes, I know drawings are not based on that. I think it perhaps harps on that particular mental thrum that is tuned to fairness.

I have NOTHING against organizations that award prizes, nor should anyone despise someone(s) trying out and giving it their best shot. In fact, if I could, I'd be on the sideline of every race, but of course, I'd be cheering on everyone. Like even the other fans. I'm just not competitive myself. I don't ride for the miles or to prove anything. At this point in my life, after over twenty years of cycling, I'm pretty sure I've cycled to the moon and back, and since that's the nearest celestial body I was done counting miles years ago. As to proving that I'm the best or just proving anything, well.... I don't need proof, I'm far from the best at like, literally anything, I already have proof of that. The last possible reason, is for fun, and I get my kicks other ways.

May is a great month to bike, to see the place you live, but you don't need a challenge to do it. I was riding my bike pretty much every day before 30DOB so I can assure you the only challenge you need to accept is your own. Though I encourage you to unlock your city, ride all month, and tackle whatever challenge comes your way, don't feel like you have to do every biking event. In fact, I think I may very much enjoy being a bystander this May, because sometimes its not about the challenge at all, sometimes, its just about how much you love what you love.  

Its about the joy not the miles

Here we are, halfway through #30DaysofBiking and I'm just now getting to really post about it. That's probably because one of the challenges of bike challenges is getting out of the saddle long enough to actually write about what's happened/happening, and its easier to reflect on the saddle when you're in it rather than when you're out of it.

For someone like myself 30 Days of Biking could easily become "30 days of Frustration" or "30 days that I'd rather not" even though everyone* was shocked that I would sign up, "don't you bike every day already?" I was asked no less than fifty times. The answer to that is a simple "no, actually, I don't usually bike every day," because I'm not required to leave my home on my days off. In fact, most days off I prefer to be AT home, not that I'm a homebody at all, but I miss my cats and its only been recently that my dog has been willing to get back on the bike himself. Not to mention my husband bikes to work and back everyday, which means he's not at all enthused about another ride later so I have to do any rides before he makes it back. Moreover, sometimes my job means I'll be at a different site that it might not be practical to bike to (one site, I can't even find the bike parking, another is just too far even for me), so that means after taking the bus home I have to construct some reason to ride my bike, which I want to point out cuts into the time I spend with my beloved cats.

I was aware there would be issues going into the challenge, so I girded myself with a personal challenge: Make Every Ride Joyful. It didn't matter if I went a mile or just up and down the driveway (which I've done quite a bit because have you seen how darn cute my cats are?) or if I went to the mailbox, or down the street to buy some goods from my favorite medical dispensary. All that matters is that I am in the saddle and happy to be there. If I can just be, I can be happy. For a lot of cyclists the posts about miles rode, or obstacles cleared, can be daunting, but not me, I'm not in it to prove anything more than I really like cycling. As a result, I've been in the saddle at least once these past fifteen days, and I believe I'll be able to complete it.

I'm probably not the only one thinking of the kid who got a bike because I signed up. Is she short like me? Does she chafe at constraints and long for independence as I did? Does she like to stand on her saddle and ride the dragonfly like I did? (okay, still do) Or is she a racer, born and bred to fly with the wind? I wonder how old she is, if she had poor parents like mine, lots of siblings she takes by bike to places, or few siblings and many friends. I hope lots of friends.

But throughout this tread of thought I always smile, even if the girl has different hair, different skin, different background, it doesn't even matter if the hypothetical she is actually a he. That kid was just like me at that age. Any kid I see on a bike I think, "just like me," as I pedal onward, "just like me, they hate headwinds," or "just like me, longing for two wheels instead of four," even those kids on saddled scooters, a.k.a balance bikes, I think, "just like me, can't wait to be free,"

There aren't a lot of activities that make me feel that way about my fellow humans. I often feel disconnected to strangers ever since leaving my small-but-amazingly-cool hometown. Other people's kids are just that, Other People, emphasis on their disconnection to me and connection to others. But when I see a kid on a bike that changes. Suddenly, they could not be any more like me if they had been created from a 3-D printer. Suddenly, they are just like me, complete with a need for warriors to stand up for them. Okay, warrior is hyperbolic in terms of writing to your local representative about transit options, going to meetings, etc.. but you get my meaning I'm sure.

When its somebody else on a bike, recumbent, fixie, foldie, roadie, upright, fatbike, bakfist/cargo, or hybrid, they are like you. Even if they ride differently, they are like you. In the community of cyclist we run the gambit of the Kilometer Queens and Lycra Kings, to the box store biker who got their ride with their last hundred bucks. We don't always agree on things like lights, to what gear to wear, and oh my gosh you want to see a community turn on itself like piranhas? Bring up helmets. I dare you. I mean respectfully bring it up, the crazy will happen on its own. Or headphones. Now that debate will spark some ire everywhere (I'm on the pro-headphones-at-a-volume-you-can-hear-others-at camp, which is very small and scrappy). The same cyclist who cries in vehement agreement when you bring up bike racks will turn into a troll when you bring up shedding that reflective vest. Yet, all of us, from the handkerchief-on-the-ankles to the gel gobbling racer are really and truly the same folks. We may vary in how we ride, or why we ride, frequency, models, shape, age, and gender, but we are a community unlike the motorist.

We are the same because we made that choice. We didn't get into our cars today (if we had them), we didn't walk if we were able, we didn't bus though that was, and always should be an option. We bought a vehicle, deliberately, and the vehicle needs us to be its engine. You chose to be a cyclist, which is a conscious choice in this country.

Perhaps someday biking will be as ubiquitous as car ownership, perhaps someday motorists will have to hold 30 days of driving. Perhaps, one day, 30 days of biking will turn into another challenge, driven by the common nature of biking. I'd like to live in that world. Where ever kid is just like me at that age, where biking is the norm, where we are all just the same and find joy at last in our differences (probably the only way I'll ever look forward to a lumin debate). Until we are all cyclists you'll just have to accept that when I see you on the street I'll smile, and attempt to wave or ring my bell to say 'hello friend!' because we are so few I that would not have even one of us discouraged.

Ride how you want to ride, my friend, whether that means the wind in your hair and stories in your ears, or all lights on and, yes orange! on your chest. Don't let someone else's opinion keep you from what makes you a confident cyclist. Sure I say orange is for convicts not cyclist, but what does your heart and mind tell you? Ride how you want to ride my friend, but don't discourage your other riders. Let them proclaim their love, discuss respectfully if you disagree, and in the end if you can't agree on the topic, at least finish it by agreeing on the fact you both love to cycle.      

Study after study concludes the more cyclists there are, the safer all cyclists are, so please, do me, and yourself a favor; don't forget the joy in your ride, don't take the joy away from others. And, above all, get on your bike and ride, because that, if nothing else, will make a safer world for a child.

Isn't that alone worth riding for?




*everyone being every person I know who doesn't have a bike or doesn't bike as often.