OHHH yes. There's something about riding far distances on your bicycle that feels amazing! One ride and your re-arranging your life to ride more frequently, to spend more time outside, or to paint glorious landscapes. As I rode along the river and under bridges, as well as through tunnels made by the autumn colored trees above, I felt extraordinary! All of my senses were heightened and the endorphins from exercising were pumping throughout my body. Not to mention, while this all happened, I was getting where I needed to go,
for free, FASTER than public transit could get me there.
I've biked a lot this summer, but now I feel inspired to step it up a notch to bike year round and buy lights to bike at night. Although, there comes the problem of having to yield to appropriate clothing and footwear. I've come to the conclusion, after months of lugging around extra shoes and arriving at parties wearing bike shorts, to wear whatever I want to wear. Aside from skin-tight jeans and shoes with no tracking, it has worked out well! This lovely "retro-glam" lady came to the same conclusion and wrote about it in her blog:
http://www.thebirdwheel.com/biking-in-heels-how-we-ride
A poem that truly puts into words what riding on a bike feels like:
ON MY OLD BICYCLE
I KNOW OUR CITY BETTER THAN YOU, CAR DRIVER.
I SEE YOU TALK ON YOUR PHONE,
FIDDLE WITH YOUR RADIO,
FIGHT WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND, GIRLFRIEND.
I RIDE MY OLD BICYCLE
DOWN THE SAME STREETS EVERY DAY---
AVOIDING THE SAME MANGLED BIRD WINGS
AND SQUIRREL TAILS MONTHLY
MELD WITH THE BLACK TAR OF OUR CITY.
MY ROUTE IS A NEIGHBORHOOD OF SMELLS:
THE PANADERIA, THE AUTO REPAIR SHOP, THE CAFE,
THE METAL WORKING PLANT WITH ROWS OF MEN
IN JUMPSUITS EATING BREAKFAST AND DRINKING
HOT COFFEE AT 8:30 A.M. EVERY DAY.
THE STEAM FROM THE CUPS WARMS THEIR FACES.
I COAST PAST THE LAUNDROMAT AIR INTO MY PATH
AND BRAKE NEAR THE PRINT SHOP THAT RETURNS ME
TO A CHILDHOOD FILLED WITH TURPENTINE AND OILY PAINT.
I FEEL SORRY FOR THE DRIVERS
WHO DON'T FEEL THE WIND NEW EACH MORNING
AND THE HUMIDITY THAT CHASES MY NECK EACH AFTERNOON.
I LEARN THE AWKWARD HEARTBEATS OF EACH STOPLIGHT
AND KNOW THE TOPOGRAPHY OF THE CURBS WITH MY KNEES.
THE SIDEWALKS ARE RICH WITH COLOR:
THE OJIBWE MAN WEARING A RED HEADBAND
WHO HOLDS HIS GIRLFRIEND'S HAND,
THE BROWN MOTHER WHOSE DAUGHTER SKIPS AHEAD,
THE HMONG MAN SMOKING A CIGARETTE.
OLD WHITE WOMEN MAKE SHADOWS
AS THEY CROSS THE STREET AT THE PACE OF A FLOWER'S OPENING.
ALL SUMMER I RIDE PAST THE OLD YELLOW HOUSE
GETTING A FACE LIFT FROM TWO BLACK MEN
IN HARD HATS AND WORK BOOTS---
WHAT CAR DRIVER CARES ABOUT THEIR PROGRESS?
STEEP HILLS DON'T MAKE THEIR HEARTS RACE
OR THEIR HANDS SWEAT.
DURING AUTUMN I DODGE FALLING LEAVES
AND RIDE IN THE WINDY PREFIX OF WINTER.
I FROWN WHEN I HANG UP MY BICYCLE FOR THE SEASON
AND BECOME ONE OF THE SHADES IN CARS,
FEELING NOTHING OF THIS CITY
BUT MY OWN METALIC HURRY
------------Anonymous
Credit: first image: Republican Herald.
Second: visitphilly.com
