Bike Like

I’m definitely one of those grouchy old people who has his “ways,” such as I’ll brook no use of cellphone technology nor will I set the household thermostat above 59 degrees, but it’s certain I’d be even grouchier (and probably older, too) were it not for the bicycle, which plays a significant part in many if not most of the pleasures I enjoy on a regular basis.

Like, for instance, in my grouchy, old man way, I almost always take an early Sunday morning bike ride. I’m practically Immanuel fucking Kant here, (famously, the wives of Konigsberg were said to have set their clocks to his morning perambulation) with my predictable schedule, but I would never do it with such regularity were it not for the opportunity to get out on two wheels it affords me—and I wouldn’t enjoy it nearly so much did I not get to pedal on the way.

Or take my soon-to-be-once-again (starting tomorrow, when the new quarter kicks off) nearly-twenty-mile-each-way daily commute out to Bothell for school. That I get to usually do at least one way on bicycle nearly every day changes the whole enjoyment equation: instead of being a chore to be tolerated, it gets to be a delightful chance to be out on something reasonably like nature, exercising, and feeling smug and self-satisfied about the reduced size of my carbon footprint.

And of course, we mustn’t overlook all those instance when if I were in a car, I’d just be out drinking but since I’m on a bike, the alcohol consumption is only secondary; what I’m really doing is cross-training for some Olympic event yet-to-be-invented that involves aerobic fitness and internal balance.

Finally, let’s not forget that the pleasures associated with the bicycle are self-reinfocing; that is, the more you ride, the more fun it is; plus, the more time on two wheel, the less you have to blather about it.