Sunday, 20 December 2009

  • I Want to Ride My Bicycle

    Being a troubled young biddy riddled with serious, years-old issues of anxiety and manic depression, my life goes through sweeping phases of "I'm OK" or "I'm really, really not OK at all..." The first phase is generally maintained by certain habits and practices being strictly adhered to for the purposes of protection from simple, everyday triggers which can set off the second phase.

    It's almost unfairly unbalanced, but that's the hand I've been dealt. Just coming out of an "I'm really, really not OK..." phase now, I'm recalling some of the habits I used to take part in everyday when I was a bit more OK. The school choir *HOLLA former choir kids!!*, writing in my Xanga *shout-out to all muh Xangstuhs!!*, and the habit I held when I was most recently last "OK," riding my bike.

    Oh, how I loved riding my bike. I rode it all throughout New Brunswick, NJ in the summer of 2007, between semesters at Rutgers University. No matter how face-blisteringly hot it would become, I was blissful as long as I was pedaling away.

    But I'm not going to lie; if you are a female cyclist in that neck of the woods who likes to wear robust outfits (skirts/heels/platforms/flip-flops/whatever) and bike everywhere she goes, then you have to be prepared for some serious gawking.

    Although, being gawked at while biking is somehow so much more pleasant than being gawked at while walking. Perhaps because of the semi-quick zoom past the noted gawkers, and maybe on account of the fact that when I'm riding my bike I feel like nothing can touch me.

    And-not to undermine the seriousness of bicycle injuries (I have a scar on my upper EYELID which tells tales of horror that my mouth or keyboard could never reveal)-but straight up: cycling injuries are easier to take than any other kind of (everyday) injury. Even the emotional injuries triggered by my paranoia of being stared at are severely less painful on a bike. I even laugh when I remember the weirdly specific cat calls I'd get while riding through the most "hood" parts of NB: "Yo Indian girl on the bike with a backpack on-can I get a ride??"

    Sigh. Good times.

    But these times were brought to a nasty halt when my bike fell victim to one of New Brunswick's favorite crimes: bike theft.

    The sudden lack of exercise and convenient transportation, and just general feeling-down-ness of losing something I loved quickly caused my life to fall into shambles, eventually leading to the most epic seizure of paranoia and immobility I hope I'll ever see in my life: several months of straight-up-not-leaving-the-house agoraphobia.

    While I may appear to be in the gutter, I'm still looking up at the stars, and dreaming of becoming a proud female cyclist again. So, as I look for someplace warm to jet to before true NJ cold sets in (if I'm not supposed to hibernate like bears, I'll migrate like birds), I'm keeping an eye out specifically for places where cute-outfit-wearing, giant-bag-wielding, platform-rocking biking biddies are all the rage.

    What do you guys think? Do you love to bike/know any good vacation spots where one can bike?

    When you go on vacation or take a trip, do you bring a bike, buy a new bike, or rent one?

    While you think it over I'll leave you with my fellow flamboyant Indian (yes, he's really Indian-google it) cyclist Freddie Mercury's take on the subject:

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