Your Car Is A Wheelchair
This week marks 25 years of commuting by either foot or bicycle. There were several years before that too but they were kind of on/off so I just start my count from here. Don't see it changing anytime soon either.
Coming into a "working age" while living in the suburbs outside of Nashville, TN isn't the most convenient place to start a working life without a car. I did when I had to and got a lot of rides from my folks and friends but like a lot of places in the U.S. people lived in one town and worked in another with commutes anywhere from thirty minutes to almost two hours. And I covered the whole range.
I was never a "car guy." I was a musician who viewed cars (and jobs) strictly as tools to get from one place to the other. I didn't care what I looked like getting there, only how I performed once I got there. Of course most of my jobs were pretty shitty so my cars were as well. I would buy a car, it would break down, I would miss work, Get fired, "borrow" money from my folks to get it fixed then start the process all over again. Always behind, always losing ground. I was really seeing how being so reliant on a car was such a hinderance.
Eventually I moved near downtown Nashville so I could live, work and play all in the same area. I had a car but tried not to use it too much. Of course I was still driving a LOT more than I would consider doing today but at that time I still didn't have a full scope of what I was trying to accomplish. Then finally that car fell apart.
It wasn't such a big deal for the most part. I still walked to work. To the bar I hung out at. To the store. And to most of my friends' places. The only thing that was kind of an issue was trying to put together a new band. Getting rides to auditions was ridiculous and the times I did, it was a whole other ordeal getting a ride to get my gear back. I actually lost a lot of gear that way. Sometimes even, the band I was auditioning for would pick me and my gear up, drive to the rehearsal space, jam some, then tell me I was on my own to get back home. Imagine, asking someone you don't know that well for a ride to what was basically an interview, doing the "interview" then not only NOT getting the job but losing some of your "tools" in the process. I went through this in both Tennessee AND Atlanta.
After a few years of this I did eventually put a band together and get a car. I pretty much only drove the car to shows and rehearsal (and to score dope, of course) but had by this time bought my first bike as an adult for $60. That's a whole other story. Then I moved to Atlanta.
I was in Atlanta for ONE FUCKING WEEK when my car was stolen. I have to consider it a blessing, though. Within a few weeks I hated Atlanta so bad if I would've still had a car, I would have been gone after three months. I ended up staying for eight years. I still feel that way about Atlanta but I did get a lot out of living there. But like AA, "take what I need, leave the rest."
Anyway, after a few months in Atlanta, I took my tax returns and bought my first "real" bike. A Bianchi mountain bike. nothing great, but for me it was. And since I hadn't really connected with any friends, on my days off I would jump on my bike and explore the city. That it happened to be the summer of the '96 Olympics just made it a little more interesting.
Commuting by bike in Atlanta was 100% easier than in Nashville. There still weren't any real bike lanes or consideration from drivers but a lot more people were doing it. At that time anyway. It seemed almost everywhere I was riding, there was another freaky looking rocker guy on a crappy mountain bike going somewhere too. Most of the guys I worked with commuted by bike as well. Then It felt at some point almost everyone I knew all at once got cars, put away there bikes and I didn't see them anymore. To be honest, I didn't really care. I was back on dope and spent most of my time either fucked up at work or fucked up at home BUT, my time spent on the bike in between these places were more and more fulfilling. After some personal crisis which led to some life changing events, I found myself clean, sober and working as a bike messenger. I was on top of the world. Basically getting paid to live inside a video game. My animal reflexes went to a new level. There were some detours along the way but I did this for several years, made a good living and got deeper into the cycling world. Then I moved to Portland, OR. Ground zero for all things cycling in the U.S.
This would take it to a new level. I gave up couriering. After 9/11 it was just too ridiculous. Email and faxes had already made a big enough impact. From what I hear now, all they deliver these days is is food. I didn't need couriering anyway. Now I rode for myself. Not some fat-ass dispatcher telling me where to pick up and drop off. And I started racing more. A LOT more. doing about 40-45 races a year. mostly road and cyclocross with a couple endurance mountain bike races thrown in from time to time. And still commuting. Always commuting.
All this time I've had a car. And each year I put about 3,000 miles a year on my car and about 6,000 a year on my bikes. Although most of those miles are from racing and training, most of the miles on my car are from driving somewhere to race my bike.
As far as commuting goes, I can't go back. I can't go back to getting in a car, isolating myself from my city, my community, my body, mind, soul, the elements....it goes on and on. When I'm heading to work, to the store, out to eat and I'm either on my bike or on my feet I'm part of everything around me. for good OR bad. I work out my problems on my way to where I'm going, I witness small vignettes of life and living, I learn the habits and routines of the crows, skunks, raccoons. I see the hottest women and the craziest street people. And being that it's Portland, I habitually run into friends who are also on their feet or bike headed somewhere. This doesn't happen in a car. All this and I get to actually feel alive during my day.
It's not always so cool. Six to eight months of solid rain can start to break a guy down after awhile but it is what it is. Until I move somewhere extremely rural where a car is almost necessary, I can't see myself going back. Even then, I would probably just invest in a nice touring bike with panniers and all that. I've always wanted an excuse for a bike like that anyway. I see the people coming in from the suburbs getting off the interstate and they all look completely miserable. Out of shape, stressed and looking older than they probably are. I see the people waiting at bus stops and it's even more depressing. Basically just ashtrays for people to stand in while smoking and staring into space while waiting to sit in a fuselage and watch other people live while moving through the city.
I may get eaten by a truck any day now. I could be amassing all sorts of toxins from city fumes and car exhausts. Maybe I'm not really saving the world or even helping my body. Whatever. I know I'm part of a community that takes charge of it's own mobility using a combination of heart, lungs, legs, the fulcrum and the wheel while getting from point A to point B.
Coming into a "working age" while living in the suburbs outside of Nashville, TN isn't the most convenient place to start a working life without a car. I did when I had to and got a lot of rides from my folks and friends but like a lot of places in the U.S. people lived in one town and worked in another with commutes anywhere from thirty minutes to almost two hours. And I covered the whole range.
I was never a "car guy." I was a musician who viewed cars (and jobs) strictly as tools to get from one place to the other. I didn't care what I looked like getting there, only how I performed once I got there. Of course most of my jobs were pretty shitty so my cars were as well. I would buy a car, it would break down, I would miss work, Get fired, "borrow" money from my folks to get it fixed then start the process all over again. Always behind, always losing ground. I was really seeing how being so reliant on a car was such a hinderance.
Eventually I moved near downtown Nashville so I could live, work and play all in the same area. I had a car but tried not to use it too much. Of course I was still driving a LOT more than I would consider doing today but at that time I still didn't have a full scope of what I was trying to accomplish. Then finally that car fell apart.
It wasn't such a big deal for the most part. I still walked to work. To the bar I hung out at. To the store. And to most of my friends' places. The only thing that was kind of an issue was trying to put together a new band. Getting rides to auditions was ridiculous and the times I did, it was a whole other ordeal getting a ride to get my gear back. I actually lost a lot of gear that way. Sometimes even, the band I was auditioning for would pick me and my gear up, drive to the rehearsal space, jam some, then tell me I was on my own to get back home. Imagine, asking someone you don't know that well for a ride to what was basically an interview, doing the "interview" then not only NOT getting the job but losing some of your "tools" in the process. I went through this in both Tennessee AND Atlanta.
After a few years of this I did eventually put a band together and get a car. I pretty much only drove the car to shows and rehearsal (and to score dope, of course) but had by this time bought my first bike as an adult for $60. That's a whole other story. Then I moved to Atlanta.
I was in Atlanta for ONE FUCKING WEEK when my car was stolen. I have to consider it a blessing, though. Within a few weeks I hated Atlanta so bad if I would've still had a car, I would have been gone after three months. I ended up staying for eight years. I still feel that way about Atlanta but I did get a lot out of living there. But like AA, "take what I need, leave the rest."
Anyway, after a few months in Atlanta, I took my tax returns and bought my first "real" bike. A Bianchi mountain bike. nothing great, but for me it was. And since I hadn't really connected with any friends, on my days off I would jump on my bike and explore the city. That it happened to be the summer of the '96 Olympics just made it a little more interesting.
Commuting by bike in Atlanta was 100% easier than in Nashville. There still weren't any real bike lanes or consideration from drivers but a lot more people were doing it. At that time anyway. It seemed almost everywhere I was riding, there was another freaky looking rocker guy on a crappy mountain bike going somewhere too. Most of the guys I worked with commuted by bike as well. Then It felt at some point almost everyone I knew all at once got cars, put away there bikes and I didn't see them anymore. To be honest, I didn't really care. I was back on dope and spent most of my time either fucked up at work or fucked up at home BUT, my time spent on the bike in between these places were more and more fulfilling. After some personal crisis which led to some life changing events, I found myself clean, sober and working as a bike messenger. I was on top of the world. Basically getting paid to live inside a video game. My animal reflexes went to a new level. There were some detours along the way but I did this for several years, made a good living and got deeper into the cycling world. Then I moved to Portland, OR. Ground zero for all things cycling in the U.S.
This would take it to a new level. I gave up couriering. After 9/11 it was just too ridiculous. Email and faxes had already made a big enough impact. From what I hear now, all they deliver these days is is food. I didn't need couriering anyway. Now I rode for myself. Not some fat-ass dispatcher telling me where to pick up and drop off. And I started racing more. A LOT more. doing about 40-45 races a year. mostly road and cyclocross with a couple endurance mountain bike races thrown in from time to time. And still commuting. Always commuting.
All this time I've had a car. And each year I put about 3,000 miles a year on my car and about 6,000 a year on my bikes. Although most of those miles are from racing and training, most of the miles on my car are from driving somewhere to race my bike.
As far as commuting goes, I can't go back. I can't go back to getting in a car, isolating myself from my city, my community, my body, mind, soul, the elements....it goes on and on. When I'm heading to work, to the store, out to eat and I'm either on my bike or on my feet I'm part of everything around me. for good OR bad. I work out my problems on my way to where I'm going, I witness small vignettes of life and living, I learn the habits and routines of the crows, skunks, raccoons. I see the hottest women and the craziest street people. And being that it's Portland, I habitually run into friends who are also on their feet or bike headed somewhere. This doesn't happen in a car. All this and I get to actually feel alive during my day.
It's not always so cool. Six to eight months of solid rain can start to break a guy down after awhile but it is what it is. Until I move somewhere extremely rural where a car is almost necessary, I can't see myself going back. Even then, I would probably just invest in a nice touring bike with panniers and all that. I've always wanted an excuse for a bike like that anyway. I see the people coming in from the suburbs getting off the interstate and they all look completely miserable. Out of shape, stressed and looking older than they probably are. I see the people waiting at bus stops and it's even more depressing. Basically just ashtrays for people to stand in while smoking and staring into space while waiting to sit in a fuselage and watch other people live while moving through the city.
I may get eaten by a truck any day now. I could be amassing all sorts of toxins from city fumes and car exhausts. Maybe I'm not really saving the world or even helping my body. Whatever. I know I'm part of a community that takes charge of it's own mobility using a combination of heart, lungs, legs, the fulcrum and the wheel while getting from point A to point B.
