In praise of the bicycle
On Monday I brought my bicycle down from Germany where it's been languishing, unused and unloved, in our garage for over six months. Today I rode it to work and back, which is about ten miles each way. I'm unfit. It hurt.
I live in a tower block in the city. I work in an office block in the same city. Okay, it's a pretty green city-more trees than buildings outside my window-but I was quite surprised to find almost the whole route leading through forests and farmland. It was lovely! And now I feel healthy in a way I haven't for months.
I don't do exercise; I don't go "for a run" or "for a bike ride". I have better things to do, including nothing. But if I'm travelling already? If the choice is between commuter trains (even Swiss ones) and a bicycle ride through the countryside? Well, then I get exercise and I thrive upon it.
My bicycle is the one I bought a year or two back, and which got sorely under-used for a long time after. Although it's well-made and a joy to ride, it is a Perfectly Ordinary Bicycle: straight handlebars, a solid frame, mudguards, a bag rack. It's a jack-of-all-roads, a bicycle made to be reasonably good at everything. Its riding position allows sufficient power but it's comfortable for long journeys (as soon as I sort out that prostate-pounding seat). It has medium-weight wheels with road tyres that travel efficiently but can still hit a kerb or a gravel path. But it's a bicycle, a Perfectly Ordinary one.
And that's the wonderful thing about bicycles. They're one of these fundamental, beautifully simple inventions that you can barely improve upon. People play around with recumbent bicycles, tandems, unicycles, penny-farthings, carbon-fibre frames-but your basic ur-bicycle remains unchanged: frame, wheels, handlebars, pedals and a person sitting on top. It's improbable but wonderful, like the gyroscopic business that makes it work.
I love bicycles. I'm in love with bicycles. I love their poised efficiency and honed simplicity. Given due maintenance, a good bicycle lasts decades; amortised over time, it costs practically nothing. Ridden with due care, it bothers no-one. Meanwhile, over the years, my various bicycles have done more than anything else to keep me fit and healthy, with all the extra happiness that implies. A bicycle brings me a freedom and joy that a car can't begin to emulate, at a miniscule fraction of a car's expense, maintenance, dirt, insurance and sheer goddamn bother. I'm not in love with cars.
Of course biking in the rain takes a little getting used to. But that's fine because I'm used to it. You don't have to be, but if you have to commute to work then I hope you can find a route through the woods.
I live in a tower block in the city. I work in an office block in the same city. Okay, it's a pretty green city-more trees than buildings outside my window-but I was quite surprised to find almost the whole route leading through forests and farmland. It was lovely! And now I feel healthy in a way I haven't for months.
I don't do exercise; I don't go "for a run" or "for a bike ride". I have better things to do, including nothing. But if I'm travelling already? If the choice is between commuter trains (even Swiss ones) and a bicycle ride through the countryside? Well, then I get exercise and I thrive upon it.
My bicycle is the one I bought a year or two back, and which got sorely under-used for a long time after. Although it's well-made and a joy to ride, it is a Perfectly Ordinary Bicycle: straight handlebars, a solid frame, mudguards, a bag rack. It's a jack-of-all-roads, a bicycle made to be reasonably good at everything. Its riding position allows sufficient power but it's comfortable for long journeys (as soon as I sort out that prostate-pounding seat). It has medium-weight wheels with road tyres that travel efficiently but can still hit a kerb or a gravel path. But it's a bicycle, a Perfectly Ordinary one.
And that's the wonderful thing about bicycles. They're one of these fundamental, beautifully simple inventions that you can barely improve upon. People play around with recumbent bicycles, tandems, unicycles, penny-farthings, carbon-fibre frames-but your basic ur-bicycle remains unchanged: frame, wheels, handlebars, pedals and a person sitting on top. It's improbable but wonderful, like the gyroscopic business that makes it work.
I love bicycles. I'm in love with bicycles. I love their poised efficiency and honed simplicity. Given due maintenance, a good bicycle lasts decades; amortised over time, it costs practically nothing. Ridden with due care, it bothers no-one. Meanwhile, over the years, my various bicycles have done more than anything else to keep me fit and healthy, with all the extra happiness that implies. A bicycle brings me a freedom and joy that a car can't begin to emulate, at a miniscule fraction of a car's expense, maintenance, dirt, insurance and sheer goddamn bother. I'm not in love with cars.
Of course biking in the rain takes a little getting used to. But that's fine because I'm used to it. You don't have to be, but if you have to commute to work then I hope you can find a route through the woods.