Long-Lasting Love for Bicycle Pedal Power

The Centurion doesn’t let a little snow get in its way. Reno, January 2008.

Most of my twenties were spent on a bicycle. With a little pedal power I soared along bike paths and cruised the streets with my friends.

As much as I love hopping on my saddle and hearing the wind whistle past my ears, I’ve never gone in for competitive cycling. It’s not that I fear spandex. I love watching competitive cycling as much as the next cycling nerd. How can you not admire the postmodern melding of human and machine, the bullet-speed grace of a veritable cyborg that zooms around sharp curves and down steep mountain roads?

Bicycle love started with a little banana seat cruiser in the mid 1980s. Polaroid taken by mother.

For me, cycling is most often about getting from point A to point B, offering a sense of self-reliance for folks who don’t have money to buy vehicles and a source of joy when I take a sweet, very steep downhill. As my main source of transportation, my bicycle pedal power saved money that would have been dumped into a car or even into an annual bus pass (I do love city buses, though. More in a later post).

The kicker?

Cycling is also environmentally friendly, cutting down on carbon dioxide emissions and offsetting a host of preventable health problems. And, it’s fun. Commuting by bike may not be feasible for folks who live in rural or suburban areas where transportation routes aren’t built for pedestrians, let alone two-wheeled human-powered contraptions, but if you’re fortunate enough to have bike paths, use them. It’s one of the best way to let your city officials know that cycling is worth investing in.

I haven’t ridden the Centurion in Denver too much since moving here last year. I work less than two miles from my apartment and often commute by foot. Also, last winter someone stole my bicycle's back tire. When I saw the sad state of my bike, I carried dear Centurion up three flights of stairs and raged against bike thieves. It currently convalesces in our storage closet waiting for a time when we can ride happy and free again.

I like to imagine it remembers all our rides together, through the Portland rain and Reno snow, through the boiling Texas heat and crisp Denver autumn afternoons, as we climbed big hills and dodged tumbleweed and suicidal squirrels. I like to imagine we'll do that again some day soon.