This country and increasingly, this world, is made up of people who would rather go broke piloting machines that can and will crush, kill, maim and destroy than put any effort into the world around them. I grew up in North Jersey, where you need a car to live. I hated driving, it felt dangerous and reckless in the worst way. I was worried I was going to kill someone, or be involved in a wreck where someone lost their life. I had to get some control over that fear, and it is a specific fear, that of death.
So I moved to Boston, and found a city where you could go anywhere by foot or bicycle or whatever. Cars were finally unnecessary though they were still omnipresent. I bought myself a mountain bike and then an early 70’s Peugeot. My first taste of the other side of that fear was like wine from the gods. Now I no-longer had to fear that I was going to hurt someone else, now it was only me that I had to worry about. And that fear drove me, made me pedal harder, move more swiftly. I learned how to run red lights, how to ride the dotted white and the double yellow. I learned how to take a lane, and how to take intersections. I rode with Critical Mass for a couple years and learned how to be a dick, how to wear my pride, and my arrogance on my sleeve. I also learned where not to be on the road, I got hit allot early on. Then I learned how to roll with the punches, I began to see that If you were more aggressive on the road you got hit less. If you’re going the same speed as a car they have no reason to pass you. I also learned that driver’s hate bicyclists period. Even drivers who were once themselves riders succumb to this. Watch bike videos long enough on YouTube and you’ll come across hate thrown at every type of rider. Day cyclists in their spandex, people with lights all over and a safety vest, dirty punks and messengers, drivers that hate riders hate us all. So yeah, I’m a little selfish on the road. They’re the ones who decided that their trip to work that morning would involve risking my life, not me.
In this time I’ve spent in Boston traffic I’ve come to love the fear. I find comfort in the idea of getting killed while riding, checking out while doing one of my favorite things, that doesn’t sound to bad. Yeah, getting paralyzed would be awful, but it might be worth it. Who knows, maybe I’d like wheelchairs too. But, I hope it never comes to that. I have now learned to slow down a bit. In that I’m respectful to pedestrians now, other cyclists too and I’m now more willing to stop at an intersection. I know the risks I take, and I just have to take them, so I don’t go for the almost certain death scenarios so much anymore. Every once in a while sure, gotta make sure I still got it, but not all the time. I also just don’t ride as much any more. I was talking to a friend about this recently, he said he was skating more often ’cause it’d been a year since his last car accident and he was trying to put off the inevitable. I myself walk more, still all year in all weather for many miles, I run through intersections and don’t wait at lights. But I ride at least a couple times a week, and when I’m working, five days a week. And when I get up and put my wheels on the road, I start slowly but I pick up speed and look for the fear. When I find it, it grabs me and I welcome it. Without the fear of death, what have you got to live for?
