I Believe in Bicycles
Essay by Natalya Stanko
Animation by Caleb Yoder
I believe in bicycles. My bicycle is simple. I move the pedals, which spin the gears, which turn the back wheel. The wheels simply rotate. My bicycle does not need a windshield, heated seats or even a radio.
As I ride, I listen to cars swooshing, birds flapping over a field of wheat, construction workers volleying one-word commands.
My bicycle is powerful. These wheels can take me anywhere. Every morning I pedal three miles from home to campus. I race the CATA bus down Waupelani Drive, and usually I win. On the downhill, the wind wakes up my bleary morning eyes. Then, on the uphill, warm sweat and muscles stretch out my yawning calves. When I burst into class, I am panting, like a dog after a good game of stick. My cheeks are washed pink, the color of good health. I am alive.
My bicycle is slow. It agrees to take me anywhere, as long as I don't push the pace. Two summers ago, three friends and I pedaled out of State College, through Pennsylvania, 4,000 miles across Canada and the United States. I took us three months. We swirled through New York State for three weeks, crossed New Hampshire in a day.
Some days we cycled 100 miles. But sometimes we didn't bike at all. That didn’t bother us. We stopped to cliff-dive in the Adirondacks, to hike in Cape Breton, to water-ski on Alexandria Bay. We didn’t think in minutes or hours, but in weeks. We measured productivity in how many wild strawberries or oyster mushrooms we picked. Or in how many strangers we met.
Wherever we rested, we inevitably attracted the curious. One idle evening we sat on a bench in a coastal town in Newfoundland. Jerry, a local fisherman, came over to ask about our trip. Then for a week Jerry served us fried salmon, halibut, beer and uninterrupted conversation.
We also shared a meal with a lawyer in Maine, a Buddhist monk in Nova Scotia, a former drug smuggler in Montreal.
My bicycle is slow because it values not just the destination, but all the stops along the way.
My bicycle makes me confident. The first time I tried to ride a bicycle, I fell. I bloodied my knees, my pink handlebar streamers, my white Velcro sandals. I cried into the black pavement. It was hot and sticky, smelled of petroleum.
But now I can do anything on this steel and rubber contraption. I like that it's not always easy. When I ride, sometimes the sky is fresh and warm, like a loaf just out of the oven. But sometimes it spits snow, hail and rain. The cars are cozy, and I -- wet and cold -- ride alongside them. That's fine because I believe in myself on my bicycle. Look at me, I am still moving, with my own two feet. I am pedaling, simply, slowly, happily, always.
Comments
Cathi Alloway
State College
Sep 08, 2010
Well done! Expresses perfectly my love of bicycling.
Bob Swaim
Coopersburg, PA
Sep 10, 2010
I really enjoyed your video and what a great teaching tool
for the young who are just forming their likes. I can see
a whole movement of bicycle advocates being built when
shown your video. Great to see women bicycle advocates.
Thanks for doing such a great work of art with your video.
Bob Swaim
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