Onto My Bike, Into My Neighborhood

Just a short post this week, and thanks again to J Money at RockStar Finance, and Eric Ravenscraft and Kristin Wong at LifeHacker for featuring my little blog over the past couple weeks. I really appreciate you sharing a couple recent posts with all your readers, and I've been smiling all week as a result.

Arizona's weather is weird. Now that fall is upon us, we can finally turn off the AC for good and get outside again. A couple weeks ago, I put a new tube on one of my bike tires and decided to pedal on over to our kickball game. It was only about a mile ride, but it was fantastic.

Over the long hot summer, I forgot how nice it is to bike. The speed is just right for getting to see the neighborhood. A lot of houses are being remodeled. Political signs are out in yards. The 'only-in-Arizona' winter lawns are being put down. (The weather is so extreme here that those who want a green lawn all year round have to put down Rye grass seeds for their "winter lawns" when the Bermuda grass goes dormant.) It's the best time of year, and every fall I remember what I love about our little city when I bike through its streets.

The farmer's markets are opening up again. Joggers and cyclists and rollerbladers cruise along the multi-use path in the city's greenbelt, stretching on for miles. And, of course, there's kickball.

I've started getting our groceries on my bike again. Locking up my old, eighties bike outside, walking through the grocery aisles with my backpack on like some high schooler, and awkwardly squeezing all the veggies and meat inside the bag while the employees look on. I don't really like explaining that I'm on a bike because I think it sounds pretentious: like I'm bragging. So I just try to cram everything in there as quickly as possible and get out of there before the person behind me in line starts glaring.

I am re-learning old routes to the places I normally go: the grocery store, the park, the library. I'm in wonder, always, at the manicured roads and paths that are paid for with our puny tax dollars. Anyone can use them, as much as they like, no matter how little or how much they make, and that makes me smile.

I'm still pretty out of practice and the seat hurts my butt after even a short ride. I have to lean forward and distribute my weight onto my arms, trying to be a little aerodynamic.

I still drive the car sometimes, like when I had to pick up some beer, champagne, and bourbon for an election potluck we're hosting. (Champagne for victory, bourbon for defeat.) I'll always appreciate our little Matrix -- the shifting of the gears and being able to crank the AC when it's 118 outside. But driving in a car is like traveling in a bubble. You're insulated, listening to whatever music you'd like while shutting out any noise from outside. You're on autopilot. 

On our scooters, I'm at least outside of the cage but the major roads we ride on are so fast (45 - 50 mph) that you're constantly aware of the danger that surrounds you. 

But I take different routes on my bike. I'd never ride on a 50 mph three lane road, let alone a freeway. I take roundabout paths to wherever I'm going, cruising through neighborhoods and crossstreets with 25 mph speedlimits, where I'm just as likely to see a couple walking as I am someone driving. Sure, it takes longer. That's kind of the point.

Just like how Route 66 is more enjoyable a journey than the interstates which replaced it, the jaunt through my neighborhood is more enjoyable because it puts me in a real neighborhood.

I forget this every summer, but I'm always glad to remember it again. I've missed you, bike.


*Photo is from Dru Bloomfield at Flickr Creative Commons.