Skip to main content

Why cycling saves the world

Of course my tongue is planted firmly in cheek with this hyperbolic statement…and I more than half believe it.

But not for the reason you think.

Sure, cycling is good because it reduces fossil fuel consumption, promotes cardiovascular health, puts you in touch with nature, and the latter two are good for emotional health.

Riding a bike, you may or may not know, is humanizing.

In apartment elevators, most people studiously avoid making any kind of contact with each other, but when I am that annoying person taking her bike on the elevator, more often than not, my fellow traveller is impelled to strike up a conversation. From “Nice weather, eh?” to “What do you think of the green paint on the bike lanes? My partner was involved in that. Does it work?”

In winter, we all want to hunker down in our cars and separate ourselves from the elements, but I can’t tell you the number of times people have rolled down their windows to talk to me. BFB (before fat-bike), it was mostly swearing, but since then, and especially since the addition of my Lumos helmet, people roll down their window to strike up a conversation at a stop light!

Like dogs and children, which help strangers warm up enough to speak to each other, bikes also serve as an ice breaker – and riding them makes us available to interact not only with the environment around us but the people in it.

“One man’s hands can’t tear a prison down
Two men’s hands can’t tear a prison down
But if two and two and fifty make a million
We’ll see that day come round.” – Pete Seeger

If we can all bit a bit more open to each other, maybe we can actually make the world a better place, one friendly exchange at a time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My favourite nativity scene

“There’s no accounting for taste.” That’s my dad’s favourite way of explaining personal tastes that are incomprehensible to him, like living downtown, and riding bike in winter. The inexplicable factors which determine an individual’s likes or dislikes are probably the only way I can explain why my favourite nativity scene contains a horribly caricatured black magus, a random adoring child attired – to my fancy – like a Roma person, an old shepherd carrying some sort of blunderbuss. And a haloed holy family with an 18-month-old baby Jesus. This is the "Christmas Manger Set – the Christmas story in beautiful cut-out scenes and life-like figures." See how the 1940s-era family admires the realistic flourishes, like raw wood beams and straw protruding from the edge of the roofline; the rough, broken wood of the stalls; the tasselled camels; the richly dressed magi; the woolly sheep; the Bethlehemites on the path in the background, ostensibly out to get water, judging...

Upside down economics of Jesus: household action and global change

--Presented at a CAWG event in Altona -- In Living More with Less , Doris Janzen Longacre shares a story about envelopes from Marie Moyer, a missionary in India, who was studying Hindi with Panditji. Marie writes: “From his philosophic mind, which probed the meaning of events and circumstances, I learned more than Hindi.” Just before her teacher’s arrival one day before Christmas, she’d received and opened a pile of Christmas cards and discarded the envelopes as he walked in the room. She writes: “He sat down soberly and studied the situation, then he solemnly scolded me: ‘the reverberation of this wasteful act will be felt around the world’.” Marie was stunned. “What do you mean?” she asked him. “Those envelopes,” he said, pointing to the wastebasket. “You could write on the inside of them.” “Chagrined”, Marie apologized and rescued the envelopes with the help of Panditji, who “caressed each one” as he pulled it out of the garbage. This forever changed Marie’s relationship to p...

Broken people...

After reflecting with one coworker on how often churches in all their forms really mess up and hurt a whole bunch of people in the process -- and how "we gotta do better" -- I stumbled into another conversation with a coworker which highlighted our brokenness, and I suddenly realized what was wrong with my take in the first. I wanted the church to be better at fixing our mistakes, or better yet, at not making them in the first place. But maybe this "fix-it" attitude is partly the reason we keep blowing it again and again! My friend recollected an experience when a church community was in a terrible place: compounded mistakes, hurts, and frustrations had blown up, spewing pain all over all parties. (I'm sure anyone with a long history in the church can think of one, if not several, such occasions in their past.) A new Christian who observed all these goings on responded in an unexpected way. Instead of "you people are a bunch of screw-ups! How could this pos...