You Could Do It

I realize I’m a cycling fanatic: I own seven bikes, all of which I ride; my daily commute on two wheels is about 20 miles in each direction and I almost always cycle at least one leg, often two; I regularly drag my kid to school on the tandem and one of my favorite dates is to go dining and dancing with my darling wife on the bicycle built for two; I own a Haulin’ Colin trailer that I frequently use with to carry heavy loads; and my preferred night out with friends is to gang up with several dozen asshats on bikes and ride around causing mayhem to ourselves and others.

Clearly, this ain’t for everyone and I’m glad of it, really; one of the things I like best about being into bikes is that it’s kind of nerdy; if cycling were as popular as say, I dunno, driving maybe, it wouldn’t be nearly so attractive to me. It’s like how as soon as REM got popular in the late 80s, you didn’t want to like them anymore.

Still, as I ride around through traffic, it does occur to me that any reasonably healthy person (in Seattle, anyway) between the ages of about 14 to 65 could easily conduct most of their daily errands and chores on bike if they wanted to. All the places most people are going and most of the stuff they’re taking along with them could be carried on a decent bicycle with a decent rack or basket, I think.

So why people choose to sequester themselves inside of metal boxes is kind of beyond me; I feel sorry for most of them except the ones who piss me off like the guy who swerved into the bike lane this morning on Jackson and nearly drove me off the road; if only he’d been a cyclist, it wouldn’t have happened or at least he’d have heard me when I swore at him.