Bicycles

Like so many others this past year, I've had the pleasure of cycling more than ever before. I found myself fiending for outdoor activity after coming back to the sunshine from a dreary land. A simple, engaging way to bask in the love that is warm temperature. So I got on my bike. Over and over and over again. 

 

I've been riding two to four times a week since March. At first my routes were short, familiar outings on the shaded streets I grew up on. Then they became longer. I strayed farther from home to parts of town I hardly visit. I wandered neighborhoods where I don't know a single resident. Sometimes alone, sometimes with company, I learned of creekbeds to follow for winding miles, hilltops with serene, uninhibited views, parks and taco spots and strange murals (Andrew Yang and Kobe are a duo I never would have expected). The excursions became day-trips; explorations into unknown folds of the place I've known for my whole brief life. 

 

For most of the year I rode an old mountain bike that was passed to me from my dad almost a decade ago. Earlier this month, my parents gifted me a sleek city bike. It's gorgeous. Deep blue frame, white-rimmed 700cc wheels, brown leather seats and grips. It has no gears (single-speed) so it's lightweight and minimalist. The design is both classic and modern. I can fly on that thing.

 

Now I cruise around town with a contagiously laid-back ambiance, each pedal a beat of my soaring wings, each moment more liberating, more enjoyable, than slower or faster transit could ever offer. Maybe it's because I'm fully out there; the asphalt is inches away, it's imperfections physically impactful on my body; the wind in my wavy hair, uncut for months now; the sun on my exposed forearms; the hot closeness of rumbling cars giving way to the quiet openness of a residential backstreet. It makes me feel present. 

 

Anyways, this feeling I get on my bike reminded me of an essay called The Wheels of Freedom: Bicycles in China by Fred Strebeigh. He describes how people in China were banned from talking about the Tiananmen Square Protests in the aftermath, but while cycling they could and would because the state couldn't monitor people's conversations while they were biking. Bicycles gave individuals personal space. A dose of sanctity that helped them go on with daily life.

 

I know China has changed dramatically since 1991, when the essay was published. The sea of bicycles has given way to four-wheeled traffic jams and cutting-edge public transit. The surveillance state wields expansive new technologies. But I think, when I read this, I see how millions of others have felt the same overflowing vibrancy I find on my bike. It's cool to recognize that connection across time and space.