I noticed today that the only time I make a point of sharing a transportation experience via social media is when I drive a car. At least twice now I have posted updates on Twitter (I really can’t bring myself to say I “tweeted”) about using a Zipcar. And for good reason. Zipcar is a magical program where, with the wave of a card over a windshield, I unlock a car — and so far, a different car each time — find the keys inside, and drive off. To paraphrase their motto, I use a car when I want to. The autonomy that Zipcar reinforces is palpable whenever I pick up a car and use it to run errands that are otherwise unmanageable by bike. And the fact that I have to reserve the car ahead of time means that I use a car only when I want to, not just when it’s convenient to do so.
Which brings me to what I was noticing. It is that I post updates about using a car, which has become an increasingly rare experience for me. In other words, I don’t post updates about how I get to work every day, how I buy groceries, or how I go pick up dinner. And, well, maybe the way I do those things is more interesting, since I’m doing all of that by bike.
Long time readers of this blog may not see anything odd about this. But just a few months ago, things would have been the other way around. That is, if I am inclined to post updates about what is novel, then I would have posted updates about biking, since that would have been more novel at the time.
After a 2008 mountain bike accident, the full effects of which on my bicycling lifestyle I won’t go into here, left me unsure of myself on two wheels, I started taking the bus to work. But after months of daily walking more than an hour to get to and from the closest bus stop, I reached the point of frustration. While I did enjoy catching up on This American Life and PennSound podcasts, I was spending so much time getting to and from work that I joked that I might as well move in to my office. Later, I worked out a routine catching rides with a friend, which in turn made my daily walk-bus-walk to the office seem epic by comparison. So when my friend’s fellowship year at the Center ended, I started driving myself to work.
A year after the accident, I still was not comfortable riding. And while I rationalized driving as necessary at first, I soon felt indolent, especially compared to my past self. Driving, however, remained my routine through the end of August.
Moving to Davis, California this summer has inverted my paradigm, restoring my sense of independence from the gas pedal. Moving here car-free has reinforced the pattern in my life that bike-reliance is itself cyclical. I’m delighted to be on the side of the cycle in which once again driving is the aberration.
Davis, by design, makes it so easy to bike, I’m not missing a car. The bike paths are plenty, the lanes are wide, and the drivers expect cyclists to be on the road. I’ve seen countless Xtracycles, tandems, recumbents, and other “odd” bikes that would turn heads in any other town. But here in Davis, where on Saturday they set a new bikes-in-a-line record for Guiness’ book, it takes something extraordinary to turn heads. Biking to work, carrying groceries in panniers — these are not extraordinary things. Which I guess is why I didn’t even notice.
