Cycling Is Better Than....

 So-- Why does a girl ride?

Specifically, why does this girl (yours truly) ride?

This Pyschologist Doesn't Think We're Crazy

If you cycle because you want to, non-cyclists probably have referred to you by any number of adjectives and epithets.  One of them might be "crazy."

I'll admit that I actually called one of my fellow cyclists "crazy."  So, however, did other members of our "crew."  Actually, Ray Tirado wasn't crazy so much as he was fearless and seemingly incapable of feeling physical pain. (All right, some might argue that such a combination of traits might add up to a listing or two in the DSM.) Most of our rides together were off-road and he made jumps and descents that, even when I still had most of my insecurity and testosterone, I wouldn't have dared.  Even on a straightaway on a the road, under a clear sky with the wind at our backs, I could see that his attitude toward riding, and life, was different from anything I could imagine.

That said, I admire him to this day.  Even though he seemed to be riding "gonzo," whether on off his bike, he always seemed to understand who he is--which meant that the risks he took weren't just acts of hubris:  He was pushing his boundaries because he understood what they were and didn't want them to be boundaries any more.

I must admit that, to this day, I value few compliments I've ever received  for anything more than the ones he gave me for my riding (!) and "for being you," as he once said.  "You know why you ride, or do anything you do."

He got half of that statement right.  To this day, I sometimes do things without knowing why.  Cycling is not one of them, which is why it's one of the few things I can't imagine my life without.

You see, after half a century of dedicated riding--which has included commuting, touring, racing, messenger work, riding on and off the road in all kinds of conditions in about two dozen different countries--I can say that I understand the risks of sluicing through city traffic, barreling down a rocky hill or pedaling into the teeth of a mistral as well as anyone.

And I know, as "Crazy Ray" surely did, that those risks are outweighed by the benefits, not the least of which are the ones for our mental health.  One of the world's most influential people also understands as much--which is why he got me to thinking about Ray.

He's just published his latest book, Rationality:  What It Is, Why It Seems Scarce, Why It Matters.  One way you know he's an academician is that the book title has a colon in it. But he's more than that:  a real intellectual, a thinker.  That means that, as much as he enjoys cycling, it's not an unconscious or reflexive act for him.  "Given the value you put on your life and the fact that there's even a very small probability of getting killed," he asks, "does it outweigh the pleasure and health benefits of continuing to ride?"

Steven Pinker.  

The people who can't understand why we ride are usually focused on the first part of his question:  the risk.  But Steven Pinker, a Harvard psychologist who specializes in psycholinguistics and social relations, has been thinking about why he rides for as long as he's been riding. For example, as a kid, he tried to understand how he could remain upright while riding, which would lead him to learn about the brain's workings and how they relate to Newton's law of gravity.  Also, while growing up, he heard about men--including three uncles and several of his father's friends--dying prematurely of heart attacks.  So, he says, as a young man he resolved to keep himself in good cardiovascular health.  His studies in neuroscience would confirm the wisdom of his choice:  "physical exercise is one of the best ways to extend brain health."

So, the Harvard researcher and my old riding buddy--who, by the way, was a plumber--would agree on this:  Riding a bicycle is as about as rational as anything a human being can do.
 

It's The Stories That Matter

During the past couple of days, it's been colder (in NYC) than it's been in, probably, a few years. Today is definitely a tomato-soup-and-grilled-cheese-sandwich kind of day. Now, to all of you dear readers in Minnesota and North Dakota, this might be a beach day (on Lake Superior?  the Red River?).  But you have to remember that those of us in the Big Apple, everything is bigger, brighter, dirtier, hotter, colder, and generally more intense, and everybody is tougher, stronger and smarter, than in any other place in the universe.

Of couse, I jested (Is that a real word?), but only somewhat, with my previous sentence.  But like any true New Yorker, that's what I tell myself.  And the tourist bureau wants you to believe stuff like that so you'll tell yourself that you'll never, ever come here--until you do.  And you meet someone like yours truly.  And someone else like me. (Yes, believe it or not, there such people.)  And another.  And another.  Then you go home and tell your friends that everything in New York is bigger, brighter, dirtier, louder, more intense--and more expensive--but, you know, those New Yorkers are rude and gruff but they have hearts of gold.

My late uncle Joe was that kind of person.  He was born and lived in Brooklyn until he was about 60, when he and my aunt moved upstate. He never lost his straight-out-of-Red Hook  (I bawt a boddle uv alluv earl in da staw on toity-toid and toid*) accent--or his sense of humor and generous spirit.  

I am thinking of him now because of a feature article in a local newspaper of a place I've never seen. Uncle Joe was an avid motorcyclist until he couldn't ride anymore.  I don't recall him riding a bicycle but he talked fondly of the one he rode as an adolescent in the 1950s:  a Schwinn Phantom, in black.  He said the bike always "felt right:"  in spite of its weight, "it moved."  And somehow, he said, the gearing felt just right:  "I felt I could pedal into anything!"

Now, perhaps that last exclamation had more to do with his youthful energy than the bike, or anything else--though, I must say, if his bike was anything like the two black Phantoms I've seen, he probably felt like a real badass when he rode it.  I know, I probably would have, too.

Howard F. Gordon of Lower Burrell, Pennsylvania has one of those bikes.  And, I would guess, another, perhaps in another color.  And other bikes from that period, and earlier--over 100 of them!

From what I read in the article and saw in the accompanying photos, all or most of those bikes are of the balloon-tired "cruiser" variety made by Schwinn, Columbia and many other American companies until the 1960s.  He calls his 1951 Monark "the Cadillac of bikes.

Even though he admits he has "too many" bikes, he's always on the lookout for new treasures, at garage and estate sales.  "There are so many bicycles in garages and attics that are worth money," he explains. Whenever he buys a bike, he disassembles it and cleans every part before reassembling and restoring the bike to something like its original condition.

One of his more interesting observations regards the condition of the bikes he finds.  Generally, he says, girls' bikes are in better condition because they were better cared-for. Boys, he observed, usually rode their bikes into the ground.

That observation is part of what keeps him interested in vintage bikes:  the stories, known or imagined, by them.  "Every one of those bikes had a rider who can tell you something about the adventures they took on it," he explains.  "A bike is a kid's first feeling of freedom."  Sometimes kids pedaled their bikes to places their parents never knew they went. (Can you see me and Uncle Joe winking to each other?)  

In case you were wondering, Gordon rides.  "My wife and I go on riding dates," he relates.  "We stop for ice cream.  We enjoy the nice weather.  It's great exercise."

That sounds like a story behind at least one of his bikes! 

*--Translation: I bought a bottle of olive oil in the store on Thirty-third and Third.

Photos by Louis B. Ruediger, for the Tribune-Review. 

Why You Arrive In A Good Mood

 There are many reasons to commute by bicycle.  Here are three of the best:

It's All In Our Heads!

I think most of us agree that cycling is good--if not absolutely necessary--for our mental health.

Perhaps this is the reason why:

 

From Rateeshirt

We Want To Be More Than One Part

We ride to keep ourselves from becoming this: