The Bike of Doom

A lot of writing about cycling is about going fast. You can hardly read a cycling blog without somebody talking about beating their personal best. Bicycle commuters aren’t immune. Getting to work faster on a bike than in a car is a thread I’ve seen a few times in forums, or as a selling point for commuting by bike. It’s true, we can go fast on bikes, and by avoiding traffic we can be pretty darn efficient. I’d like to talk about cycling slowly for a change. I mean really slowly.

I read a book last year that caused me to change the way I cycle, at least part of the time. Outside Lies Magic by John R. Stilgoe is about moving slowly enough, on foot and on bike, to actually see the world around you. It’s a lost pastime, claims Stilgoe, but when you do it, amazing details begin to emerge from the urban landscape. And that’s a good point. Stilgoe is talking not about refined, country walking or cycling, but inner city, urban cycling and walking — cycling behind the shopping mall, where all the receiving docks are, in back alleys, side streets you never bother to take.

Rather than explain how to cycle slowly, or how to observe, Stilgoe illustrates the wonders available to the slow and observant traveler. He focuses on everyday places, everyday things: the creosote soaked poles that hold up power lines, motel parking lots and rest areas, frontage roads, rural mail boxes. His mind wanders as he contemplates what he sees, trying to explain things, and it’s fascinating reading.

As I read the book I took a couple of long, slow, winding rides on the Bike of Doom. I had no destination in mind. I cycled to places I’d never been in the city, also places I had been but had rushed through. It was a strange experience. I remember cycling along an alley in the middle of downtown and realizing that it was an old railroad bed. Some of the ties were still there, partially paved over. I’d never noticed it before.

I’ve been forced to go slowly again this winter as I’ve cycled, simply because it’s too difficult and too dangerous to go fast. This hasn’t helped me be more observant — not because I don’t want to but because most days my eyes are frozen shut. I am looking forward to spring, though, and some long, slow rides.

This was all brought back to me by a couple of blogs lately. One is The Daily Ride, a Calgary photo blog (no text, just one photo every day), and the other is Psychalist, , a UK blog aptly subtitled “Cycling to work seeing many things. Some strange and interesting, others mundane.” I’m fascinated by this kind of cycling. When I do it, I feel like a kid again, and riding the Bike of Doom actually feels appropriate. It’s the kind of bike you can climb off, leave leaning on a post, go wandering a bit, not worry about it. It’ll be there when you return, and if it’s not… I can’t really imagine anybody wanting it.

All this is not to say I don’t like going fast once in a while. I’m as competitive as the next cyclist when some lycra clad roadie whizzes by as I’m coming home from work, or I’m passed at a light by a courier on a fixed gear, and have been know to stalk such cyclists out of my way (to the point where they look over their shoulders to make sure it’s not their bike making all the noise), just to prove I can do it. And not going fast when there’s a wind at your back on the prairie is something of a crime, I’d say. But on the whole, I’m amenable to a slower pace.

The Bike of Doom is also incredibly heavy, 46 lbs naked, so going slowly is not usually a problem. You might say it’s a requirement.

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