Saturday, December 31, 2005

The rarest of things...

Calvin Woodward posts a wonderful story about riding his bicycle across the country. Bravo. For the first time in a long time, a major news outlet manages to post something that isn't cynical, controversial, mean-spirited, or disheartening. Bravo (again.) I wish it wasn't so notable. We have so much, we live in such wonderful times full of possibility and hope- Woodward manages to tap into this spirit... tells us that people are extraordinarily good and kind, that they have stories that need to be told and make sense when you see them in the correct light.

Bicycles do this sort of thing to people. They are nefarious instruments of reflection. By forcing you to slow down from 70+ miles per hour of "want want want to get there" to a more manageable pace of "how far can I get?" they make you experience what you're passing through.

I love many forms of transportation. Motorcycles are great because kinesthetically they make sense- they lean to the inside in a corner. They go like hell, and you can thunder along feeling your own little rebellious fantasies come and go as they will. Also, conversation is hard even if you're traveling with somebody, so you get to be alone with your thoughts for as long as the ride lasts. This time for reflection is increasingly hard to come by.

Running is good too. But you don't get very far very fast, and if you do, then you don't have the spare energy to notice what you're running through. My moments of appreciation when running happen when I stop, and notice that suddenly I'm in a glade of birch trees or on top of a hill with a fantastic view of Monterey Bay.

Air travel sucks. Especially that little "ding" noise they make to ensure that when you do drift off to sleep you don't get any good dreaming done. Sorry Shahv*. I'd enjoy it more if I was the one doing the flying, but as a passenger with an 8x10 view of the world, it doesn't rate.

Car travel just is. It's hard to say that it's good, given what it's done to the world in terms of urban sprawl, pollution, accidents, inactivity, and the like. But it's hard to say that it's all bad- I love cars, after all. College cross country booty call drives. Long roadtrips that clear the head and deliver you to your chosen destination feeling as though you've traveled through a wormhole populated by fading radio stations, gummi worms you know you shouldn't have eaten, and too much bad gas-station coffee.

Walking I'm not a big fan of. It just seems so... punitively slow. Take a dog out for a walk and he will run as much as he can. He will only walk when his legs are too tired to run, or when you make him. Life is more fun when seen at some speed greater than 4 miles an hour but less than 25. Walking is like listening to a presentation from somebody who insists on reading (usually in a monotone) every single word on every single overfilled 14-point Helvetica PowerPoint slide.

But bicycles. Bicycles are just right. Fast enough to see 50 miles of decent views in a day. Easy enough that you don't have to pay attention every.single.moment, and can absorb what you're riding through. As Woodward notes, you sense every hill, every undulation. You can feel wind, humidity, temperature. You can smell things that would be lost in a car.

It occurs to me that I have neglected my bicycle(s) for too long. At last count, I owned 5 or 6. What on the earth am I doing not riding them as much as I can?

Driving, running, and flying, that's what. I think that ratio needs to change a little.

*Shahv is a pilot friend of mine with a self-confessed jones to get above 10,000 feet at least once a week.

1 comment:

Shahv said...

No offense taken, James. In the course of work, I ride in the back of an airliner twice a week and I agree - riding in the back sucks!

When I get to work, I fly a tiny private jet all over the country. I see the world as few others do - 500 square miles at a glance. Sure, you can look out the window when you're sitting in 15F, but what you see is pretty limited (8x10 is a little optimistic, by the way).

I get a panoramic view of the sky and the ground. I see mountains (some purple and majestic, some not), valleys, and oceans of wheat and water. I watch nature create clouds in a matter of hours that are wider than Manhattan and ten times as tall. Sometimes those clouds evolve into a storm that spits lightning, briefly heating the air around it to 50,000 degrees - hotter than the surface of the sun. Soon the storm runs out of energy and dissipates, leaving no airborne hint of its existance.

I get to see the world from above without the lines that Rand McNally draws. The world without political and socio-economic borders. The way it was before we arrived.
On a long enough flight, I get the time to stare out the window, ponder the world as it slides by and get lost in my thoughts.

Occasionally, I create the "ding".

Then my work week ends and I'm once again relegated to seat 15F.

Air travel as a passenger is much like elevator travel. It will get you where you want to go quickly and efficiently, but without regard to what you pass along the way and with no effort put forth on your part.