J.R. Hay

A breeze flows across my hands, glides up my arms, and jumps off the round of my shoulders. The dips and bumps of the road induce a faint precession of the front stem and force my forearms taught and demand my subconscious attention. The colors around me are vivid and the smells reach my nose unimpeded by dark tinted windshields. I am in the same place as the pedestrians who move around me, their gaze can meet mine and we move together, not in conflict. The figure of the earth is my shepherd and I follow her gracious curves, every incline and decline felt. This is the feeling for which I experience every time I mount a bike. It is oddly both a solitary and communal endeavor, in that I am completely alone in my motion and pace yet uninsulated from the people and environment which surrounds me.

I met my German friends two summers ago working in a lab on campus. My girlfriend at the time was probably the first to convince me to ride. We rode together many times that summer, on neighborhood rides, back and forth to work, and even on weekends. When I began I was awkward, every ride felt like I was pedaling an unbroken horse. Once on a trip in the city we rounded a corner and I proudly sped my way towards the front of the pack only to fall prey to a tram track. My wheels fell inside the groove and when the track turned my front wheel clipped and the back lifted, lurching me forward and off the saddle.

Since then I have biked in all sorts of places, Tucson ;Arizona , Germany, and London. Biking is now my primary mode of transportation taking me too and from school and work. A 2.7 mile journey which used to consume needless amounts of gas and accelerate my vehicles wear. It doesn’t save me too much, maybe 200 dollars a year, but the benefits of pleasure and exercise make it worthwhile.

Biking in the US and abroad are completely different experiences however. In Germany for example, whole streets were demarcated for bicycle traffic. In stark contrast, here in Charlotte white painted stripes define the line between 50 mph multi-ton ballistics and a 180 pounder going 15. I think its worth it though. I have weighed the pros and cons. Cheap, environmentally friendly, healthy, egalitarian travel for the not insignificant chance of getting clipped by a pickup.

This past week I took a bike tour of Charlotte, about 9 miles around uptown. I’ve done about five of these now and they have taught me more about the city than years of driving through. On the train ride to 36th street I was approached for money, often I am not, I believe it is because I have a beard, long hair and ride a bike. Perhaps I blend in too much to be deemed as wealthy enough to give. I got off and rode down the plaza, Noda isn’t particularly vibrant on the weekdays, it is filled with business people schmoosing clients or taking long lunches and dogs strolling by with their owners. I proceeded down a neighborhood street and onto the sugar creek green way. A father walking with his young son and pointed me out, “there is a man with his bike”, as parents do to teach children of the world.

Making my way into the city past optimist hall and underneath the inner loop, which confines uptown like a noose around an ever swelling neck. There was a group of guys drinking and blocking the right side of the underpass so I took the left. These safe corridors in and out are rare but are the rays in which the city expands. South end and Noda both expand in this way. Once in the city I meandered up and down avenues at the business districts and through the wards. I stopped by the convention center to get my bearing. Some big event was going on (looking it up while writing it appears to have been a convention for dentists) Having plans for lunch at chipotle just outside the loop I sped down Brooklyn village avenue. This is where the infrastructure failed- no sidewalks nor bike paths. I was forced to carve out a precarious position on a 45 mph road surrounded by perturbed motorists. After a lunch I studied in the public CPCC library graced by a beautiful skyline view. I ended my day making my way back into the inner city passing by an elementary school letting out for the day. Mustard yellow busses filed out and parents soon off from work picked up their children. Once back on the train it was filled with people going home after a long days work. Usually to their cars parked somewhere cheaper. A man speaking to himself jammed the door, finally after about five minutes of giving incoherent reasons why he left. Throughout the day I saw the businesspeople, the crazed, the homeless, and the young. All moving their own way incognizant of one another’s presence.

I finish this post off encouraging anyone to grab a bike and tour your community. There is much more there than you think, I guarantee it.