I alone pedal in the mud

Cycling is freedom. When I am on my bike I am released from all worldly ties. No media, no interpersonal interactions, no consumption. I just move at my pace, communicate with whoever I deem necessary to interact with, and do work rather than purchase someone else’s labors. I choose between being a car or a pedestrian. I bomb down hills, and twork it up them. Cycling is isolation. For the past year I have avoided flyer-ing on bruin walk, been able to ignore any awkward acquaintance glances (or the even more awkward corollary to that, the obvious trying to avoid looking at you encounter while walking to class), and haven’t had to listen to the most irrelevant, unintelligent morning conversations. I can choose to ride sans music, where I get to absorb all the city sounds, or I can cruise with my iPod as a motivator to overcome the many hills of Westwood. Biking is a form of solitude because even if you are riding in a group (not so much Critical Mass status, but a minor biker brigade) you are alone. You can pass people or lag behind, you can be in the middle and still not be talking with anyone. It is the most fascinating of paradoxes when you are a in crowded room, or amongst a group, and still feel completely alone, estranged, isolated. (Now I’m thinking about a quote from Daisy in the Great Gatsby and also a song by the National) But then again cycling can be the most intimate of experiences with another, it allows for another dynamic of a relationship to develop. I can think of specific nuisances biking brings about in a person, such as Gary Fisher bouncing down the nighttime SR streets, or the fixed gear boy who shakes his butt as he slows himself down a hill, or me and my big smile as I zigzag between LA traffic (its exhilarating when you swerve in and out of traffic to emerge as the first place runner on an “open” road). Cycling is freedom from consumption. I don’t have to pay seventy-five cents to ride my bike like I would have to with the bus, I don’t waste any oil to make myself me and it move--instead I am the kinetic energy that produces motion; so when I am biking I am the opposite of consumption, instead I am conserving in terms of the worlds economic endeavors-- and I don’t waste my time frustrated with other drivers or pedestrians, because in the end im still trekking at my steady pace. I am certainly hated on by motorized drivers, but I remain true to the bike lanes and stop signs (well mostly), so their honking is only a douche-bag move, and not an informative warning. Biking is also a form of strengthening your hand-eye coordination and how you coordinate with others. Sometimes drivers don’t check their blind spots, or check their spots at all, and just turn like it ain’t no thang, when bam fuck you buddy I’m slamming on my brakes and swerving into a bush. Other times I can sense their stupidity before it becomes a danger to my life, so i brake and swerve with plenty of time to zoom by the driver’s side smirking and shaking my head in amusement, cuz it ain’t no thang I didn‘t see coming. Misanthropic doesn’t even begin to touch the surface of how I feel sometimes about people in cars, but in the end biking reigns supreme over any other form of transportation.
Obama Trek is my lover. I ride him over here, I pedal over there, I bike him everywhere. He has character of course, with his travel shelf which has yellow side satchels that I can attach to it for easy transportation of goods. The back tire has a slow leak, which is fine by me considering how many bike hotties I encounter when I go by the shop for a refill. He only sometimes likes to listen to me commanding his tension gears, we have had many disagreements which usually end with me black handed from reworking the chain onto the rails. He is not a fresh baby, he’s been around the block for about twenty years, but he is faithful and dependable. He’s the type of guy you just don’t let get away, unless your on top going along for the journey.


Listening to: Aesop Rock’s Labor Days
“This cat is asking if I've seen his little lost passion
I told him: "Yeah, but only when I pedaled past him"