Skip to main content

Cycling and riding a bike

I have decided that I'm not a Cyclist. I just like to ride my bike. There's a difference. Cyclists are serious. They've got the fancy duds. They've got the expensive wheels. They've got the cool equipment. They roam in large packs.

I'm just a dilettante, a dabbler. I wear gym shorts and an old JavaOne t-shirt. I ride an inexpensive bike. Also, I'm a fair weather cyclist only. I have no interest in enduring pain and fatigue or sacrificing all my time for the sake of The Sport. And as for money for fancy equipment...well, let me just paraphrase Tolkien by saying that bringing up young Hobbits takes a great deal of provender. My only concession to fashion is a helmet. After all, one may be indifferent to the admiration or scorn of Serious Cyclists, but one still has one's pride; there's no need to be a pariah.

In the end I guess I'm just a hedonist. Riding my bike is for the solitary pleasure of enjoying the sunshine, the breeze, and the movement. It's the most elegant form of transportation ever invented and it's my second favorite form of exercise after walking. Sitting as I do on the doorstep, and nerving myself to ring the doorbell, at number 50 Birthday Lane, I just want to nurse the old chassis along for another 30 or 40 thousand miles. And riding the bike is good for the motor without being too hard on the transmission.

So I guess I'll probably never be a Cyclist, but I intend to keep riding my bike whenever I get the chance, hopefully for another 30 or 40 thousand miles.

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The North-going Zax and the South-going Zax

Yesterday, I was on my lunch time walk and had an interesting experience. It lasted perhaps less than 2 seconds and yet I've been thinking about it on and off ever since. I was trundling along at my usual brisk pace, on the right-hand side of the path. A few yards off, I spied a man walking toward me on my side of the sidewalk, two trains heading toward each other on the same track. As we grew closer, I instinctively hugged the right-hand margin a little closer and he did the same. When it became clear that we were on a collision course, the image of the old Dr. Seuss story about the North-going Zax and the South-going Zax popped into my head. In the story, the two Zaxes meet and stand there for years, each too stubborn to give way to the other, while a city grows up around them. For about a quarter of a second, I contemplated such a pissing contest and realized that such a course of action did not advance my goal of getting back to work in time for my 2:00 meeting. So I swerve...

Inside Outside

With the latest installment of "Culture Wars: Restroom Mania", I've been thinking a lot about gender lately. I am interested in and a bit apprehensive about the societal and cultural impact of loosening the hitherto tight coupling between gender and the phenotypic expression of sex. How much of our success in achieving a measure of civilization, for example, can be attributed to our traditionally strong commitment to a strictly binary interpretation of gender that is largely determined by the visible sex organs? Today, when a baby is born, practically the first thing we do is to observe what is present between the child's legs. This mere observation sets in motion an immense and immensely complicated train of events and expectations that will affect the child profoundly in pretty much every aspect of life. I'm explicitly avoiding value judgements about this train of events and how it pertains to an individual. Rather, what I am trying to come to grips with is the ...

Comments on Paradox: On Ownership

It's funny, but not not surprising, that we seem to have had some similar life experiences. The notion of ownership has been very transformative in my life, too. I can clearly recall several instances of what some might call an epiphany, where I experienced an overwhelming realization of ownership. These instances were all similar -- a sudden certainty, like a light turning on, that I was in the right place at the right time doing the right thing for the right reasons; and the not-unpleasant sensation of a new weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders, a weight I was comfortably able to bear. For the longest time, I had no word to describe these experiences, but I have come to view them as taking ownership. These experiences, and the habit of ownership that arose from them, have been very instrumental in any successes I have experienced in my life. Every religion on the planet is probably eager to offer an interpretation of these experiences -- to frame them in the phraseol...