Commuting is like no other part of the week. I have a tendency to count it as time lost on the way to places I want to be, but in fact I'd be poorer without that half-hour each morning and evening. At various times, I've commuted by foot (both with and without a wheelbarrow of tools), by car, and by public transit. These days most of my trips are by bike. Each kind of commute has something going for it, and below is an assortment of things I've learned getting to and from work by bike in the last year.
When I wave at a bus full of school kids, I get a wall of waves in return. It's like when I was seven and a friend showed me how truck drivers would honk if I pumped my fist up and down at them.
The hottest part of a 103-degree day is getting in a car.
I can bike casually to work every morning in the summer and never break a sweat.
Rogue Valley drivers tend to be a courteous bunch. The one time I chased a car down at a stoplight to offer some constructive criticism, I was met with an apology and a compliment to my lights. Deft conflict avoidance for certain, but I bought it. The last time I chased down a driver in a different river valley town, I was offered a fistfight on the spot.
I can be doing something I love 60 seconds after I finish a workday.
There's no better justification to buy cycling accessories than the money I save riding to work. At the federal mileage rate, I save $8 every day.
Places feel different in relation to one another after I bike between them. This is a difficult sensation to explain, but locations that otherwise feel isolated from each another by a car trip come into focus after I ride between them. It's like finding out that two good friends know each other, or realizing that the section of puzzle I've been working fits into the section my dad's been working.
Riding in the rain means getting wet. Rain gear has a place, but there's no substitute for a change of clothes in a waterproof bag.
Worrying about rain is far worse than riding in it. Riding in the rain can be great fun. That's a secret though.
My most successful commutes are those that provoke nothing but indifference from the drivers around me. My goal is to be as visible and unremarkable as another car, and every so often to inspire the thought that looks like fun, or I could do that.
The more visible I am and the more I behave like a car, the more respect I get. I don't think I've been honked or hollered at in my last 500 miles of city commuting. I'm up to three headlights and two taillights now.
Lessons aren't all I've gleaned along the shoulder of the road. I once recovered the contents of a neighbor's purse. And I've picked up a nice set of adjustable clippers, any number of good bungee cords, some sturdy hardware fabric, and a license plate for the garage pegboard.
After watching a cornfield grow all last summer, I stopped one morning after harvest to pick an ear. I ate it raw that night and it was sweet as a Medford pear.
If you've ever seen a bike commuter and thought that looks like fun, or I could do that—well it is, and you could. And if you've just passed me carefully without honking or hollering, thanks for your part in making my trip so pleasant.
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3 comments:
Excellent post. I tend to be more of an avid walker than a cyclist, but either way, you do see things much differently, notice things you wouldn't otherwise had seen in a vehicle.
I've noticed that most drivers are pretty courteous to bikers and pedestrians in the Rogue Valley.
Although, as someone who walks as much as possible, I've been wondering if bikers should have to take a training course, get a license of sorts. Many ride on the wrong side of the road or on sidewalks when they have a bike lane available.
Most problematic right now are bikers flying up behind me on the Bear Creek bike path without calling out as they approach from the rear. It's not just recreational bikers who neglect to call out "on the left" or something similar, it's avid cyclist all decked out in lycra and the latest streamlined gadgets.
Just this last Sunday, I had no less than a dozen seemingly professional looking riders nearly run my sons and I over within a one-mile stretch of bike path near Ashland Middle School. Not one verbally signaled their approach from the rear. One even brushed my son and offered nothing in the way of an apology, just a "Hey, careful now."
Perhaps you could post something about biking rules and etiquette.
Kyle, thanks for the suggestion of a post about bike rules and etiquette. I'll take it seriously. It's a sad fact that bike enthusiasts can be our own worst enemies--often, we don't give anyone reason to like us, much less wish to join us.
I've read that in Germany, a bicycle bell is required equipment. But it's no substitute for cyclists treating pedestrians with respect--the same respect we want to have from drivers.
Oregon is ahead of much of the country with school-based bicycle education, but even here we have a long way to go.
Walk on,
Nathan
Great post. I think I like the corn story best, and I completely agree (in my limited experience) about the dry clothes in a bag. Nothing like knowing you can get doused and enjoy it without ruining the day.
I also like Kyle's idea about a biking etiquette post.
Just wondering - do people say "hollered" in Oregon, or are your roots showing? (I think I may be a fan from that "other river valley town" you mentioned.)
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