May is national bike month, and in the spirit on infinity mpg, I find myself reminiscing about a bicycle past. She was a Gitane Grand Sport DeLuxe, and before her I had rarely ridden a bike.
Growing up in car-choked, suburban LA, I learned to ride a bicycle but never employed that skill. At my house, learning to ride was more like baptism or memorizing state capitols: a right of passage you endured but would rarely use. Then in college suddenly everyone was a cyclist.
What the car is to Los Angeles, the bicycle is to Santa Cruz. On any given saturday you can expect to see families headed for off-road riding, surfers lazily pedaling their cruisers along the seaside cliffs (board up under one arm), and hipsters zipping around on their fixies. Cycling is omnipresent.
Bikes were everywhere and I didn't fit in. It was isolating and embarrassing to say the least. Where so many of my friends saw the bicycle as an extension of self, I saw an untimely death machine. Fed up, I decided to make a change.
But what to do? Funds were limited, and I didn't know where to begin. Step 1 was to thoroughly understand how a bicycle works. After learning the mechanics, maybe this machine would feel more personal to me. Building a bike became my next move.
A friend of mine volunteered at a cycling coop where plenty of neophytes came to learn. Known as the Bike Church, this place was run on donations. It was the affordable answer, but the patrons were a little scary. An overwhelming number of pacific northwestern hipsters passed through with culinary tattoos and Skrillex haircuts, giving off a special brand of condescending ennui.
When it came to bikes, I was already intimidated by my friends, let alone the cooler-than-thou strangers at the Bike Church. At that point though, I just felt too lame without solid cycling skills. Putting my insecurities aside, I went searching for a frame to work on. On a tip from a friend, I visited a bike thrift shop and found my Gitane. She needed more than a little love, but for $75, it was impossible to say no.
Walking my ramshackle baby into that coop for the first time was a pretty scary thing. What is it with hot guys and bikes? They just seem to gravitate toward one another. Surrounded by hipsters and hotties (and praying not to embarrass myself), I found a work space, an old beat up bike repair manual, and a wrench. Over the next month, I meticulously dismantled, cleaned, and reassembled my bike. It was a group effort, with so many people helping along the way. Four weeks later, my bike was road-ready, and I found myself at ease with the milieu of novices and cycling snobs who ride. After that, it was just a matter of learning from the road.
***
My Gitane was stolen about a year ago, and it's ok that she's gone. The real beauty of that bike was getting to know her. Although she's probably chopped for parts, I would like to think that someone else is riding her these days. It's funny the way an inanimate object can define a time in our lives. For me, getting comfortable on that bike meant much more than balance and mechanics: it meant finding confidence around new people, and in many ways, finding confidence in myself.
Happy bike month and happy riding!
Summer weather in spring
