The Freedom to Find Order

Today I didn't ride my bike.  Hopefully, I'll get to ride tomorrow.  But I had a good, if not long, ride yesterday.


It was  something I used to do in the old days:  I started with no plan or destination.   I just got on Arielle--my Mercian road bike-- and I could practically hear her asking me, "Where have you been?"


I found myself zigging and zagging between Queens and Brooklyn, mainly on side streets.  Most people wouldn't know whether they were in one or the other, but having lived for so many years in them (I can't believe I've been in Queens for almost eight years already!), I can see and feel the differences when I'm riding.


Back when I was writing for the Ridgewood Times, I routinely rode the five miles or so along Gates Avenue from Vanderbilt Avenue in Brooklyn to Fresh Pond Road in Queens.  From Vanderbilt, the first few blocks of Gates are lined with some lovely brownstones and other graceful old buildings.  But, after one crosses Nostrand Avenue, the condition of the houses begins to deteriorate somewhat.  Then, by the time Gates crosses under the tracks of the "J" train, the street is lined with cheerless tenement buildings on one side and auto body shops on the other.  Then Gates crosses under another set of tracks, for the "M" train.  A couple of blocks later, the small portals of those houses and apartment grow, as if they've been filled with light, and become  tall glass doorways framed in dark wood and etched with gold-gilt numbers.   These are not brownstones, but they are attractive and sturdy in a similar sort of way--and more orderly, as if those houses themselves were arranged by a grid pattern like the one that guides the streets themselves.  


When I saw those houses, I knew I was in Queens. And I was happier to be there than I wanted to admit. All right, I'll admit it:  I really liked seeing those pretty, well-kept houses.  They don't have the cookie-cutter sort of architecture one finds in too many developments today.  They have character; they are interesting and unique.  But they are also very precise and orderly, and--to me, anyway--it's no surprise they were built by German immigrants who settled the neighborhood a century ago.


How is it that whenever I look for freedom, or simply run away from something, I end up finding order and embracing it?  It occurs to me that I experienced exactly that when I took my first bike trip to Europe.  Five days after I graduated from Rutgers, I got on a Laker Skytrain flight to London.  I brought my bike, a pair of panniers, a handlebar bag, a couple of changes of clothes, a sleeping bag, a camera and a bunch of rolls of film, two blank notebooks and a few packets of condoms.  I had no set itinerary, save that I expected to be in France and possibly another European country at some point.  


But I gave my parents, and anyone else who asked, a more detailed itinerary than I actually planned to follow.  The truth was that I was taking that trip because none of them wanted me to take it and, frankly, I didn't know where else to go or what else to do with myself--and I didn't want to find out.  If I wanted to do anything, I wanted to show them that I didn't need a plan and that I would survive in spite of everything everyone tried to scare or warn me about.  I wasn't going to follow the rules and schedules that bound them:  I would have nothing more than myself, my bike, the road and the surprises of the world unfolding before me.


And what did I embrace?  The friendliness and politeness of people I met.  I actually liked that French people addressed each other as "Monsieur," "Madame" or "Mademoiselle" and appended their requests and sentences with "s'il vous plait."  I liked the order of London and Paris streets:  Even the plane trees that lined them seemed to have an erect, dignified bearing to them.  


That trip was not the first or last time I would get on my bike in search of freedom and would find order--and embrace it. That's what I did, again,  late this afternoon, when I steered my bike onto a street lined with neat brick houses trimmed with deep red, violet and yellow flowers.  I opened the door to one of those houses and  wheeled my bike in.  Charlie and Max were waiting for me.

Welcome To Mid-Life Cycling

Hello!


Some of you may have been following my first blog, Transwoman Times.  If you have, you know that one of my greatest passions--and one of the few constants--in my life has been bicycling.  


After a layoff and a couple of false starts, I am starting the first cycling season of my new life.  I have talked to and written to a number of female cyclists, all of whom have given me excellent advice, and encouragement--not only to ride, but to start a blog about my cycling.


I realized that such a blog might well be unique. For one thing, there isn't another blog by, and about the experiences of, a transsexual cyclist.  But, even more important, even with all of the blogs that are now being written by female cyclists (which include Lovely Bicycle, Biking in Heels and Girls and Bicycles), the vast majority of what I've read about cycling has been written by males, and describes their experiences.  I've enjoyed much of that writing, but I guess that my future expereinces as a cyclist will differ, in at least some ways, from theirs.  Also, much of what I've read has been written by and for younger cyclists.  Again, I have no problem with that.  But I also know that there are other cyclists of a certain age, shall we say.  All of you younger cyclists ain't gettin' any younger, as they used to say in my old neighborhood.  So you may be interested to see what it might be like to age "in the saddle."


I still haven't decided what the blog will include.  Of course, I'll talk about rides, past and present.  And I'll probably talk about my cycling equipment, especially as my life changes have caused me to change some of the parts and accessories I use.  I'll most likely ruminate and offer lots of two-bit philosophy, as I am wont to do.  That means I'll probably also talk about what I read, wear and eat--and the things as well as living beings I love.  In my life, they have all been intertwined in one way or another with my cycling--and writing.  So has, in one way or another, everything else I'll talk about in this blog.


So...whatever your age and gender, and however you cycled to them--or if you came to them by other means!--I hope you'll read and enjoy this blog, and bring your friends to it!