Do They Think Pedaled Bikes Are For Midlife—Or Later?

 

This news item from Philadelphia echoes a lament I’ve heard from other parts of the US:  Fewer kids are riding bicycles.

That may seem counterintuitive (as much as I hate that term), given that Philly, like other cities, has been building bike lanes and investing in other forms of cycling infrastructure—and that cycling for transportation and recreation, especially among Generation X and Millennials, had been on the rise, at least through the pandemic. The report I’ve linked mentions several possible reasons: Kids are spending more time on screens and are riding e-bikes or scooters. Their parents are concerned about traffic and other dangers.

It also hinted at a socio-economic phenomenon: families and communities are “under-resourced.” That is a fancy way of saying some families can’t afford to buy their kids bikes and even the giveaway programs can’t provide nearly enough. Even if parents can afford bikes, they may not have the time to ride with their kids—which brings us back to their safety concerns.

It’s an unfortunate fact that while cycling can provide relatively inexpensive transportation and exercise, its benefits are far from equally shared. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my friend “Sam” observed that the cyclists we saw on traditional bikes were older than e-bike riders.  I would also add that on any given day, e-bike riders I see trend poorer—and darker—than those of us on pedaled bikes.

About the previous sentence: If my observations reflect broader realities, it may be because  a disproportionate number of e-bikers, at least here in New York City, are delivery workers, nearly all of whom are immigrants from Africa, the Caribbean and Central America. But even among those who aren’t bringing pizza or tacos -to people who just got home from work, most of the e-bike riders I see are people of color. Those who aren’t are usually tourists.

Could it be that kids who don’t have bikes see their parents, older siblings or other adults a generation older than themselves riding e-bikes and think “That’s what I want”? Kids, consciously or not, aspire to be like the adults in their lives.  They can envision themselves to be like them, and not the older adults—who are riding traditional bicycles.

It’s rather ironic that piloting e-bikes, and other motorized vehicles (including cars) is seen as a sign of “growing up” while pedaling is a symptom, if you will, of middle or old age!

In The Middle Of Our Journeys

 Yesterday Sam and I rode the Van Cortlandt Park trail to Yonkers, where we picked up the Westchester County trail to Millwood. Both of these routes are part of the Empire State Trail.

As we neared the end of our ride, he made an interesting observation.  “All of the riders we’ve seen on pedal bikes are older.”  He added that the e-bike and motorized scooter riders were young.

Now, I must say that given our ages, it’s a little odd to refer to “older” people, even if we are in the middle of our lives. Sure, some had gray or graying hair on their heads and faces.  But do they see themselves as “older?” Or so they share my belief that we’re in the middle of our lives as long as we don’t know when we’re going to die?

And what of this one, out for a walk on a beautiful day? Does she know whether she’s near the beginning or end, or in the middle of her life?

Blaming Ian

As you've heard by now, Hurricane Ian trashed parts of Florida's west coast and did a lot of damage elsewhere.  Here in New York, we escaped the vice of his grip, but his sleeve brushed us, if you will.  So, while no part of Long Island resembles Sanibel Island, we were tossed and drenched as if we were passengers on an unstable ship.

Fortunately for us, there wasn't much damage and I didn't hear about any power outages.  But, from Friday evening through this morning, enough fell from the sky, and the wind was strong to keep me off my bike for the weekend.

I think the last time I went a whole weekend without riding at this time of year was when I was "doored" two years ago.  At least I had an excuse then:  thirty stitches and a torn muscle.  I suppose that to someone who's not a dedicated cyclist, I had an excuse this weekend. I don't mind wind or rain, up to a point.  If precipitation turns into a cataract and I can't see more than a few bike lengths in front of me, or if I can barely make headway against the wind, I won't ride unless I must.  

Even if I had an "excuse," I feel like a bit of a wimp.  But, I tell myself, I'll ride again and I didn't see carbon lycra crowd in the bike lane outside my apartment.  Not that I think they're any standard of a "dedicated cyclist," but I feel somehow vindicated.  They'll ride, and I'll ride.  I like to think that even if I don't have a lot of years left, I expect to continue riding, however slowly, long after they've moved on to other things.  And I was cycling before they were born.

All right, you didn't read this to hear me being smug and self-righteous.  So I'll leave you with something I saw while riding home late Thursday, before Ian came knocking.