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I have this picture in my head of cruising along the waterside, a little wicker basket attached to the front of my pink one-speed bike. In the basket: a bouquet of flowers, a growler filled from a local brewery, and a baguette leaning over the edge. When I’m feeling extra ballsy in my daydreams, I also imagine myself wearing a large straw hat, and a chic Parisian fit of a navy and white striped shirt, a Hermes scarf, and perfectly tailored trousers. As a pedal along the sidewalk, everyone will wave as I pass, a “bonjour” will be thrown out by a few of my closer acquaintances, and I’ll take one hand off the handlebar momentarily to blow them a kiss.
This is one of my favorite fantasies to play repeatedly in my head, and also the least likely to ever come to fruition. In reality, any flowers nestled in the front would be petal-less or fall out before I got home. I would be covered in sweat, garbed in an old tee shirt and the jogger sweatpants I stole from the lost and found in high school and still wear. No one downtown would show any display of pure friendliness and the general public doesn’t speak French in Central Pennsylvania. The last time someone smiled at me in the city and I smiled back, he followed up asking if I wanted my ass ate. Thanks, but no thanks.
These details don’t match up with what’s in my head, but the biggest hindrance to this plan is the fact that I don’t know how to ride a bicycle.
Somehow, the most common childhood skill managed to escape me growing up. I have vague memories of my dad trying to get me going on a two-wheeler and then falling over sideways every time. Apparently, I had no desire to learn, and inner ear problems had my balance messed up enough that the lessons just stopped. At some point in middle school, I think I was finally able to get upright and move for a short period of time, but starting and stopping was a shit show.
In college, I was badgered into going on a trail ride with some friends. I insisted it wouldn’t end well, and I also explained that I didn’t own a bike and wasn’t going to pay to rent one. I ended up going on the trip. I borrowed an extra bike at least 5 inches too high for me from someone in the group. It was a miserable day. I fell over dozens of times, ran into trees and rocks, and was miles behind the group for the entire ride. This too tall bike also had the narrowest seat in existence. Had my hymen still been intact, it would have been destroyed by the end of the trip.
But now, I have decided to change the tides. I’m going to become one of the assholes taking up the entire shoulder of a city street and doesn’t signal when they’re turning. I will transition into a bona fide cyclist.
When I spoke of my plans to my boyfriend, he was super concerned. He voiced his opinion that downtown city streets are not the best place to learn to ride a bike. I assured him that baptism by fire is the best way to pick up a new skill. Eventually, I relented and agreed to get my feet wet at a local park first. As soon as the weather gets warm, I’ll find a way to cram a bike into the back of my petite Volvo and start practicing. It’s sad to be an adult making shaky lines in a public space. However, I am a big advocate for not letting embarrassment or social stigma keep you from doing something.
It will likely be difficult to learn so late in life, and I’m anticipating lots of frustrated moments and temper tantrums. I’ll see it through to the end though, because I really really want to pedal around the city with that baguette in a wicker basket. Plus, I’ll be learning a marketable skill if I ever want to make the career switch to local food deliverer.
I already have my new baby picked on online, along with a matching helmet, a bike lock, and a book on the history of cycling just for kicks. In just a few weeks, you’ll find me coasting along next to the Susquehanna, showing off my newly trained skills. If anyone has tips to shoot my way, go for it. I can certainly use all the help I can get..
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Kell
future soccer mom of America (AKA I drive a Volvo.) Miracle is my favorite movie and it should be yours too.
@backpackfanclub
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Pro tip: helmets are for nerds. Source: 10 year old me trying to be cool
Haven’t you heard? Nowadays, being a nerd is cool. Source: all the nerds in Silicon Valley making millions.
This, until you get a nasty concussion and a bunch of stitches at 13 from falling off your bike. Then you lean pretty hard into nerding out with some helmets.
Only nerds fall… (Source, also ten year old me)
Well, uh, you aren’t wrong on that.
Maybe you weren’t riding hard enough? Cuz 10 y/o me did some dumb “stunts” on bikes.
And 13 year old me was racing a “friend” and they did some dirty shit to cause a fall.
+1 on the local park idea for learning. I’m a triathlete so I ride more miles than I can count but I still hate riding downtown because all the asshole and/or oblivious drivers and all the stopping & starting make it such a pain in the ass.
As long as you don’t turn into one of those tools with the full-on USPS riding shirt like you’re Lance Armstrong or something, you’ll be good to go.
I always want to ask those people if they’re really sponsored by SKY as they ride 9 mph on their hybrid.
Honestly, it’ll probably take you about a half-hour to learn.
I think Dave has a pretty sweet Haro bike if you want to learn how to BMX
If you have any local bicycle shops nearby, check and see if they do group rides. They’re typically early on weekend mornings in residential areas so you can get your feet wet riding on actual roads.
Trying to think of something witty to say about riding Citi Bike because it is so much fun but, I’m brain dead from this hell week at work.
Still don’t know how to ride a bike, and at this point I’ve already faced the fact that I will never learn.
Once you get the hang of it you’ll love it. Whipping a bright purple Zascar around uptown in business casual with no helmet is the only way I want to get to the office now.
I re-learned in my late 20s, and I went to a local commuter train lot near where I lived at the time, and rode and rode for pretty much a straight hour. Eventually gaining courage until I could ride to work which is was 8 miles away. You can do this, I’ve got confidence in you!
Dave, there’s no such thing as re-learning how to ride a bike. Hence the phrase, “it’s like riding a bike.”
When you haven’t ridden in over a decade, yes there is.
Nah, it’s more of a “getting your sea legs back” kinda thing than re-learning – unless, of course, you had a stroke at a young age in which case I sincerely apologize, Dave.
What’s this guys deal?