(Plus pedaling is better for the planet.)
There are few things that make you feel like you’re six. Riding bikes is one of them. Wheee!
I spent a decade bike commuting in San Francisco. Every morning I’d ride from the North side of the City to the heart of the Mission District, where the weather was often five degrees warmer and the sky a different color — blue instead of June Gloom gray. Dressing for that ride became a point of pride. I often rode “hot on top, cool down low,” meaning warmer weather gear on top and cold weather gear on the bottom. Once at the office, I’d peel off layers — a puffer, cycling gloves, headband, padded bike shorts under a dress — and be ready to rock the day in my dress and sandals. I remember being blown clear out of the bike lane in the evenings when the wind funneled down through the highrises downtown. But what I remember most is the smell of Christmas. Every year in the weeks after Christmas, the city deployed special trash trucks to pick up discarded Christmas trees. They’d smash Douglas and Noble Furs into the backs of the trucks and the smell of pine wafted through the city. It was an unexpectedly pleasurable and memorable olfactory experience. You’d miss that in a car.
In my thirties I discovered the magic of electric bikes. I giggled the first time I rode one in San Francisco and years later discovered the joy (and ease!) of cycling with kids on Ebikes. I now have two Rad Power Bikes Radwagons to carry our four young children; they are basically quiet motorcycles but somehow pass as bicycles. And wow they are fun. It took me forty years to discover the joys of mountain biking. We recently spent a year in Bend, Oregon and found ourselves riding for hours under the canopy of Ponderosa Pines and in the company of gnarled Junipers. Birdsong, Bald Eagle and wild turkey spotting, rushing water, rain, hail, snow; the elements and animals enchanted us on the trails. My husband and I took turns getting the kids to and from school so we could make time for mountain biking; it became a priority. Even our three- and five-year-olds got into it.
And we learned a lot! Like, what “good dirt” means. (Super dry dirt is slippery, as is mud, but dirt with just the right bit of moisture is grippy, soft and pleasant to ride. Snow?! Exceptionally slippery unless you’re on a fat tire back. Put that on the list of things to try!) And how riding a bike late into pregnancy is surprisingly comfortable and peaceful. (I made it to 32 weeks and then decided it was time to stick to the pool.)
The girls noticed all kinds of things they miss in the car. The chill of morning air, wispy fingers of fog clinging to the base of the Santa Ynez mountains, California Poppies slowly unfurling their brilliant petals behind clusters of sandstone.
But upon returning to our forever-home of Santa Barbara, I found myself outmatched by the trails. The mountain biking is too technical, the dirt too slippery, the overall experience too gnarly. I’ve never been into road biking, so I found myself out of the saddle for months. I was bummed. And then, Bike to School Day popped up. Of course! Get back on the bikes!
While recently riding to school with our girls, I was reminded of the San Francisco Christmas tree smell and Bald Eagle spotting of central Oregon. The girls noticed all kinds of things they miss in the car. The chill of morning air, wispy fingers of fog clinging to the base of the Santa Ynez mountains, California poppies slowly unfurling their brilliant petals behind clusters of sandstone. But what really caught our attention was the soundscape. Northern Mockingbirds, gently rustling Eucalyptus leaves, kids squealing in the local park, dogs barking, church bells ringing. And water rushing. We’d driven across that streambed hundreds of times, but we’d never heard the stream. It was beautiful, loud, cascading, enveloping. We all heard it; my youngest daughter shouted with delight, “The river is flowing!” We all let it sing.
Northern Mockingbirds, gently rustling Eucalyptus leaves, kids squealing in the local park, dogs barking, church bells ringing. And water rushing. We’d driven across that streambed hundreds of times, but we’d never heard the stream. It was beautiful, loud, cascading, enveloping. We all heard it; my youngest daughter shouted with delight, “The river is flowing!” We all let it sing.
Riding alone is wonderful. It’s peaceful, invigorating, and meditative. Riding with kids can be all of those things, and it can be annoying, frustrating, and hard work. In my years and years of riding bikes on city streets and mountain trails, I’ve learned that riding ebikes with appropriate layers of clothing and properly fitting (i.e. comfortable) helmets is perhaps the most fun way to ride with kids. Ability, size, and temperament are smoothed out across the group; no one has to keep up or slow down. Yet you still get to enjoy the sites and soundscape but without the perceived drama young kids bring to adult lives. And if you still want exercise, you can choose to power down and work harder. Electric bikes take the edge off and for me, right now, that’s okay.
Looking ahead, I have my sites set on electric mountain biking. The rolling, well marked trails of Central Oregon worked well for my body and fitness expectations on a standard mountain bike, but the arid technical trails for Santa Barbara do not. And that’s okay! I’ve settled into riding our Rad Power bikes which brings its own kind of joy. And while traveling in Indonesia this summer, I’m going to try out electric mountain biking with a friend who understands and frequently rides the local terrain. He has found that electric mountain bikes make the commute to and from the trails safer and the power supply comes in hand in volcanic terrain. Perhaps it will be my new thing? When one road closes, a new one almost always opens. There are always ways to ride if you’re willing to roll with it.
