Kyle's blog

Sometimes I race the bus; sometimes I win

My bus trundles up Freedom Parkway to Highland, where I am sometimes waiting at the light, both bound north. Occasionally it will be a block ahead and I will catch it, deciding to cruise the remaining four miles home.

Other times, I watch it move, see it shudder, readying to race. It breathes its hollow howl, I adjust my shoe on the pedal, and we wait for the light to snap from red to green, a deaf starter pistol.

And then we race.

"Where's your bike?": on two-wheeled identities

If I board the bus or walk into my office building sans velo, I am inevitably asked, "Where's your bike?"

My response, a white lie, usually is, "In the shop." I've learned this stems follow-up questions. Drivers understand having a car in the shop; they can identify with that, and usually just nod and go, "Mmmm." If I say, "At home," or, "Felt like resting today," or, "I'm running home," it just draws more questions. (Number two response to "In the shop," after the nod/hum: "Flat tire?")

Country Mouse/City Mouse Commuter

A car hit me on my second day commuting by bike. This was six blocks shy of my office and three weeks shy of my first wedding.

I will not carjack you, Atlanta

Either motorists or I need to wise up and be warier: one of us is gonna get carjacked or kidnapped.

Perhaps it is that I ride a bike; perhaps it is my boyish charm, or my lanky, gawky physique, but motorists love asking me directions; maybe it's because I am usually eating candy. They see me as non-threatening, though I am actually bad to the bone (that's right, ladies).

Marketing cars by knocking bikes

I saw a commercial tonight for Kia, specifically for the West Point, Ga., Sorento plant, in which a young, 1950s-era boy pedals down a country road on a sweet black bike. That's what riveted my attention: anything bikes. The boy continues riding, right into a Kia factory, across the floor amid the cars, as once again the narration boasts cars as "better ways to help people get around."

It surprised me for two reasons: I was unaware until this commercial that Kia originally manufactured bicycles (and steel tubing), then got into motor vehicles seven years later; and it directly touts cars as better transportation than bicycles, as Audi recently did.

Things about bikes that are AWESOME

My friend Lori consistently turns up Internaut gems, such as 1,000 Awesome Things, a blog cataloguing, as you might imagine, 1,000 things in life that are awesome.

They are simple, subtle things, each small item battleship big and mountain range grand, in its own way. No surprise that bicycles are on there.

Stop, thief: the bicycle in action

Safety on the streets, security when parked: two things about which bicyclists are constantly concerned.

Sometimes, no matter how seasoned we are as cyclists, we might a slip in our security efforts, and return to find our bikes missing, swiped by thieves.

And sometimes, as in this Failblog video, a bicycle foils a theft.

I Dream of Bicycling

If you aren't already aware of it, you should check out Michelle Marcus' blog, I Dream of Bicycling.

You likely know Michelle by sight, if not personally. She rides classically and with style, usually on a royal blue Takara three-speed, sporting skirts, pumps, blouses. Nary a hint of spandex or moisture-wicking polyester: all class.

Paranoia will save your bike

Wrapping up the Advocacy Team meeting Monday night, four of us walked around back of Danneman's to the bike rack. I had locked mine to a sign post out front, and, pointing to the rack, exclaimed, "I didn't know this was there!"

Mike, pointing to the rack, exclaimed, "My bike was there!"

Not half an hour earlier, someone snuck up and snipped his lock, pedaling off with Mike's bike.

Your bike is always there for you

This year, particularly the last four months, have unquestionably been the worst and most difficult of my life, heaping before me hardship and heartbreak, piles of woe unmerited and unwanted. And the bad news keeps coming. Needless to say, I am ready to close the books on 2009.

Friends rallied to aid me, to boost my spirits, offer solidarity and advice. Among it, perhaps the best: “Don’t forget, your bike is there for you -- and so are we!”

Both have softened the sorrow.