It's Personal and Private.
Thoughts on how a banana seat bike changed my life and the real reason I almost never do group rides.
““One of the most important days of my life, was when I learned to ride a bicycle.”
—Michael Palin
Growing up in the country in the sixties had its advantages. For me, one of those was the freedom to mount my banana seat bike with the high handle bars and ride from house to house selling greeting cards and tchotchkes to earn money to buy Christmas presents.
I mapped my route mapped around hitting the small corner store for a candy bar and the local dairy for fresh cold chocolate milk. And I quickly learned which of the farmwives baked cookies on which days of the week to ensure the occasional bonus treat.
It was every 7-year old’s dream (or maybe just mine). Freedom. Independence. My first entrepreneurial adventure.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F0480c908-34e9-4cf3-a6f0-d54914deadd3_2304x1536.jpeg)
Photo by Sandis Helvigs on Unsplash
But you know what? It was never about selling stuff or chocolate milk or cookies.
It was about autonomy. Doing what I wanted with no constraints. Capturing a feeling accessible only on a two-wheeled self-powered freedom machine.
Though I don’t recall how many miles the speedometer my dad and I installed on the bike recorded or how fast I was ever able to push the bike, I loved every minute I rode.
Every August a coast-to-coast bike tour passed our house. The group was their way to dip their front tires into the Atlantic after starting on the west coast by dipping their rear wheels into the Pacific. Every day I’d stand watch riding my trusty steed up and down the shoulder of the road waiting for a glimpse of the orange triangled flags.
As they passed, I’d dream about doing it someday. Riding from coast-to-coast and seeing America. Drooling over the fancy 10-speed bikes they pedaled. Longing to have one of my own.
But like many things in life as time passed the passion slipped away, replaced by 4-wheels and an engine that delivered even more freedom. Though I got a 10-speed in my teens, my riding became less frequent. Though I took the bike with me on every move through college and graduate school, I seldom mounted it for an adventure.
Then one afternoon I was in my office a the University of Illinois in mid-August. I’d been hired less than a month earlier and was deep into planning my work for the fall. My mind drifted and the memories flooded my brain — the rides to the farmhouses, the days waiting for the riders to pass the house, the freedom, independence, and adventure of my solo journeys through the countryside.
Without even thinking about it I quickly found myself in the garage of my rented duplex moving boxes out of the way to free my trusty 10-speed. After dusting it off and oiling the gears, I walked it across the street to a gas station to pump up the tires, then hit the road for my first ride in a very long time.
It didn’t matter where I went or how long I pushed the pedals. I felt at home again. My mind became quiet. Concerns about my new work evaporated. Feelings of unfamiliarity in a new town took a break. I was transported back to those days of innocence where nothing mattered other than being in the moment.
I was reminded of all of this yesterday when I took my bike in for a quick tune-up and installation of some new pedals. The mechanic invited me to join a group ride they are doing tonight. As I politely declined I recalled my afternoons riding the cornfield-lined roads around Champaign-Urbana and remembered why I don’t do group rides very often — my time on the bike is personal and private.
Today’s Action Question
There’s no specific question today, but I am curious about what you thought of as you read this post. I’d love to hear your story about time on the bike or whatever you do to discover the feeling of freedom and adventure I chase in my cycling. Care to share?
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