Feb. 23, 2005 - Issue #488: Alternative Oscars 2005
Frozen pedals
Why don't more people succumb to the joys of wintertime bicycling?
Saturday morning I went to the service department at Western Cycle. I was looking for parts for my bicycle, hoping to fix the problem myself, but Cory the mechanic said he could fix it in a jiffy. My main gears had to be replaced, but it would cost only 16 bucks. How unlike two years ago when my car’s transmission failed and the repair cost $2,000. Ten minutes later, Cory had replaced the rear sprockets, the bicycle equivalent to a car transmission. And that bill for 16 bucks is all I’ve spent on this bike in two years of daily use. No insurance. No license fees. No parking fees. No depreciation.
But cheap transportation isn’t the only reason I ride.
At school, the students don’t understand. I come in covered with frost and their eyes grow huge with disbelief.
“Don’t you have a car?” they ask.
“Sure,” I repeat every day. Why would anyone ride a bike the five kilometres from the Stadium to Westmount at -33°C? I point to my heart. Today’s kids, for all their extreme sports, are adapted to a car culture. Chauffeured to minor and often not-so-distant functions, they’ve learned a bike is not cool as a serious mode of transportation. Unless ramps and flips are involved, bicycle culture is old-fashioned, alien.
But for exercise you can’t beat biking. I’ve ridden through 12 winters now. I’m on my second “commuter”-style bike, having completely worn out the first one a couple of years back. Last year, the doctor told me that my heart was “in good shape for a man of any age.”
I was 48.
What better news for someone who in other respects could be classified as a couch potato? I eat what I want, and as much as I want, with the unshakable confidence that my next week of 10-kilometre days will melt away the calories. Why drive to a fitness centre?
In my daily trek along 111 Ave, I notice lots of bikes nowadays. In fact, I notice more bicyclists than pedestrians. Most of us pedal carefully and illegally on the sidewalks. According to Walters Forensic, there are nine million bikes in Canada. Most are put up for the winter, and some never see daylight, but a whopping two million bikes are used weekly. Bicycle use is up about 300 per cent since the 1970s across North America. That’s good news for many hearts, and a boon to our healthcare system. Moreover, since the only time bikes consume fossil fuels is during the initial construction process, they’re good for the planet’s health too.
It’s hard to imagine cyclists having any detractors, but they do. Last November, for instance, Edmonton Sun columnist Kerry Diotte unburdened himself about bicyclists. I admit some of us are dangerous. Some are rude too, and as reckless as any car driver. Diotte called for the banning of bikes from major routes, claiming we’d “still have lots of places to ride.”
Really? Oh, that’s right! On my way to work there is a bike route. I can take it south on my way home for about two blocks before my route and the bike route part company. Northbound cyclists, however, must ride in the traffic. What’s the point of bicycle routes that don’t get you where you need to go?
I’ve had people yell at me to get on the road. Their view: a bike is a vehicle. A bike weighs 10 kilograms, a car 1,000. Have you ever walked on the road between the traffic and the gutter? You’d be crazy to try, yet these geniuses, backed by the government, want all bicyclists to do exactly this, most of us pedaling along at a moderate 10 km/h while cars whiz past, inches away, at 40-60-80 km/h. One driver error and who goes to the hospital? The bicyclist. We all need to acknowledge that a bike is no more a vehicle than a skateboard is.
As far as bicycle safety goes, the problem can’t be solved by mandating helmets and making people walk their bikes at crosswalks. I don’t know how many times I’ve nearly been run down by wild-eyed drivers who let neither bikers nor pedestrians onto the crosswalk. Apparently walk signs and green lights mean nothing when you’re late for morning coffee.
Three years ago a car hit me on the crosswalk. The car swerved to avoid an expensive luxury sedan that had shot out of the Royal Alex parking lot against a red light. This august citizen fled the scene with only a glance at the chaos he’d caused.
Yes, by all means, Kerry, let’s ban all bikes from major routes. This can’t happen fast enough for those of us who’ve encountered car bumpers. But let’s also widen all sidewalks to six or eight feet and paint a yellow line down the middle. Pedestrians, I’ve noticed, walk to the right of centre lines, leaving a passing lane to their left. Along with bikers, the wheelchair crowd would appreciate the extra room in which to maneuver. They would also not complain if the city cleared the snow off existing sidewalks a little quicker than four days after a big drop, if at all. One centimetre of snow is easy to push through, but six is impossible. (By the way, is a wheelchair a vehicle? It has four wheels, and is surprisingly heavy. Nobody tells these folks to hit the road; we all know that wouldn’t be safe. Yet the moment kids become adults, they break the law if they ride on their old, safe, familiar sidewalks.)
But let me return to the advantages of riding, even in winter. Biking is not just about saving money, and not strictly an attempt to save an asthmatic planet either. How wonderful it feels to get out when the stars are still flickering, the eastern sky turning blue. The moon hangs in the western sky and my breath hangs in clouds. Smoke stands over each chimney, white from streetlights. There’s magic in those mornings on my bike. The privilege of being alive and moving in an alive and moving world is something I seldom perceive from inside a car.
It’s a joyous feeling, and more than a little mystical. Each day I ready my bike for the next day’s journey. Each morning I dress myself for the weather. As I ride, I evaluate the dangers of monster cars and trucks jammed up and growling nearby. It takes half an hour to get to work, and I don’t hurry. On the way, I have time to ponder previous generations who traveled at a different pace, among different dangers. I am courteous to fellow travelers. I want to be. We who see each other every day at the same place have time to smile and recognize each other. All of us on the sidewalk have chosen the slower way, a way that puts us in touch with the morning. Maybe you should join us. V
More stories in Snow Zone »
New comments for this entry have been turned off and any existing ones are hidden. We apologize for any inconvenience.
