My bicycle is my car. I ride for transportation.
I ride to get places.
I don’t race. I don’t ally cat or kitten. I don’t century or week long bike camp. I don’t ride trails. I don’t ride on roads without cars. I can’t afford to ride for fun.
I ride to jobs – to stores – appointments – to get there.
I ride for myself.
I ride for my health. Even when it’s not easy – bad air – allergies – pain. I ride in the rain, in the in wind, in the storm. I ride in the sun and under frozen clouds.
I ride to relieve the pain. I ride to strengthen my birth defects, to forget about the surgeries and braces. I ride to prove my legs are strong and that I can, even while differently formed.
I ride to feel my muscles burn, to sweat out the anxiety, to race my heart.
I ride till exhaustion to move past the stress.
I ride in poly cotton blend. I ride in used, donated and thrift clothes. No kits or trendy cycle gear. I ride in my work clothes, I ride in my party clothes, I ride comfortable.
My ride is used – almost as old as me. The parts I ride on are used and patched together. My ride is unique – my ride, Frankenstein.
When I ride, I ride fast. I pass it all. Ride past it all. I ride aware. No headphones. My speed is often underestimated. In flowy short skirts I dust cyclists up hills.
I ride in the middle of the lane. I take my right of way.
I ride by myself. I ride with my daughter. I ride with my dog and cat. I ride. To get there – I ride.
– By Binky Brown
art by Thorsten Hasenkamm