Celebrate The Freedom Machine

Forty years ago I began my rant: Car usage is overdone, we are addicted to the automobile and the apparent "convenience" of happy motoring. The oil companies/countries hold all of the cards and the noose will tighten. Driving is violence and we've become callous to fatality numbers as high as fifty thousand deaths a year...just in this country....and this does not include the cancers, lung diseases and effects from a quarter of a million injuries resulting from automobile accidents each year. A gallon of gas at the Terrible Herbst gas station on Shaw avenue in Fresno set me back 25 cents in 1972. That was the last gasoline purchase I made in the seventies. I scrapped my fire-prone Mercury Meteor in May of '72 and invested in a bicycle.

Jimmy Carter had it right in 1979 when he explained that the Middle East was holding US hostage, and maybe we shouldn't be in such a hurry to use up the Earth's account of dinosaur juice. Nobody wanted to hear it. Americans wanted a big dose of patriotic cheerleading, we wanted to hear that we were bad-ass invincibles, we voted for Ray-Gun the Conquerer. I didn't return to car ownership until Ronald Reagan was voted in for a second term...."I might as well help use it up," I reasoned.

It wasn't a major purchase, I bought Grandpa's '63 Chevy Nova for $1. We drove the snot out of that car...98,000 miles of California backroads while researching our California Dream Cycling guidebook. In 1998 we upgraded to a Jeep Grand Cherokee, a vehicle that could carry us over deteriorated highways after the "coming depression". In 2005 we re-Jeeped so that we could drive through the coming financial disaster and inevitable lack of road repairs....sure to be on the horizon...and now I have a 4WD Honda Element, a go-anywhere delivery van, beautifully sensible for errands run from Bodfish Bicycles, a shop we have orchestrated and composed as a livelihood for eighteen years now. During this period I have commuted by bicycle ninety-five percent of the time.

Of course, gas and oil are not getting any cheaper ($4.59 a gallon as I write this)...oh yea, I was going to wax brightly about my freedom machine. I love my bicycles, best bargain of a lifetime, I throw effort into my bicycle and it rewards me immediately...free locomotion, birds singing all around me, a speed sensation that is earned but controllable and sweet, deep breaths and full circulation of life fluids to every extremity and all I had to do was hop in the saddle and rotate my legs. There are numerous roads and paths where you are not battling with motor-bullies. It's out there, right now. Wait for what you consider acceptable pedaling weather and get out there...rediscover the magic of self-propelled travel one more time and you are guaranteed less stress about these tumultuous times.

A Pause Between Wars

Here we go again! Gas prices in the small village of Chester just hit $4.50 a gallon...what'll push them to $5? There are a half-dozen possible scenarios that I can see unfolding in the next month...all include Iran and most involve a pissed-off Israel, and hawkish Americans. It's time to bring the kids home from Afganistan but, I'm hoping the trip doesn't include a layover in Tehran.

Regardless, we knew 2012 wasn't going to be a "business as usual" kind of year. The bicycle business could improve considerably...I've seen three Nightly News interviews at gas stations this week which featured disgruntled motorists saying, "It's time to buy a bicycle."....warms the cockles of my heart. These commuters and shoppers might just fall in love with their own bodies and their ability to self-propel. Hearing the birdsongs of Spring and smelling the daffodils on their way to the Post Office or grocery store may cause permanent change...may give us all a little relief from busy-ness as usual.

Oh ya, it's going to be ugly, in so many ways...but, it's already ugly. There seems to be no way to put an end to all the unrest and unhappiness in the Middle East. Ron Paul is on to something, " isolationist America" is not even possible yet, I'm sure a few hours of thinking like an isolationist could be a good thing. In addition to pedaling around town to accomplish a handful of errands, I prescribe a few hours of silent foot-twiddling on quiet roads and paths in the country. Regular doses of "meditation in the saddle" can help us gain perspective and to savor each new day. We are only along for the ride...might as well take in as much oxygen and put out as much CO2 as you can with each breath as you possibly can, and I know no better way to pull this off, (without ruining your knees and ankles), than in the saddle under your own power.

Is Cycling Better Than SEX?

As crotch-based activities go, I honestly believe that cycling is one of the best. I suppose it is a disadvantage to have to wear specialized clothing to perform well at this hard-breathing form of exercise...small price to pay to eliminate chaffing and any embarrassing messiness. Oh yea, I'll go out on a limb and say, Yes! Cycling is as good as, and sometimes better than Sex.

What else can result in your lungs, heart and legs working so cohesively and rhythmetically while keeping a smile on your face for two hours... during each and every outing? It doesn't make you want to take a break and smoke a cigarette.

The fact that you have to perform in public may be one of the disadvantages. You get used to it, but it is one of the downsides. As a group activity cycling can be invigorating and will never result in disease or jealousy. Cyclists are seldom obligated to long term relationships or legal contracts. We are always free to drop out of the peloton and rejoin later, no hurt feelings.

Cyclists do need to be "on the same page", can't have Fat Tire enthusiasts mixing it up with the skinny/hard tire types...not for long, anyhow.

Getting back-in-the-saddle after a few weeks off often results in a sigh of relief, "Oh baby, where have you been?" The answer is always the same, "Just hanging around waiting for your remount." Loyal, loving and obedient, my ride seldom disappoints.

I'll admit, there are times when I feel inadequate, however, good coaching or a more appropriate gear, usually puts the smile back on my face. Cycling and sex can work together for a life of excellent endurance and satisfaction, yet, riding my bicycle five times a week seems reasonable and it's a lot cheaper than a stockpile of Viagra.

First Big Bicycle Tour...1974.

While earning a degree at Cal State Fresno I fell deeply in love with the Sierra Nevada and everything that was entailed with "mountain living". I had only visited various locations in the Sierra, east of Fresno, Yosemite, The John Muir Wilderness, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks on backpacking trips and weekend campouts with fellow students....but, I knew. I wanted to invest the bulk of my life in "mountain living".

Upon graduation I moved to Florida for six months of student teaching and guiding high schoolers on "outdoor recreation therapy" adventures. These outings only increased my burning desire to live in the mountains. A handful of my Fresno friends had relocated to the Kern River/ Bodfish region at the southern end 0f the Sierra Nevada...sounded good to me.

After a brief visit to Michigan...to hug family and acquire a bicycle, my new Florida girlfriend, Franny, and I, headed for the South Fork of the Kern where we rented a rough cabin in the berg of Bodfish. Franny did not share my love of cycling, or wandering aimlessly in the California "high country". I would set out with a sleeping bag, wrapped in a small tent, on my bicycle's backrack and see how far I could wander on backroads for three or four days...until hungry, or lonely, or in need of resupply of inner tubes. I wrote about my adventures in a rag called The Kern River Valley Review, for very small payment, before returning to the trails and remote dirt roads that led up from the Lake Isabella basin.

Franny, in the meantime, found real work with the USFS. Her work season started at the first of May, it was late February. She was ready to try a bicycle tour, but made me promise..."No dirt". March of 1974 was one of the rainiest on record, in California, and we were busily pedaling up the California coast...mostly with a tailwind, mostly soaked as we crawled in our tent every night. We rode from Bodfish to San Luis Obispo to Sonoma County. We cranked inland to Santa Rosa and Davis, before surfing tailwinds and sunny skies down California's Big Valley, all the way to Bakersfield. It took the entire month of March. Franny was surley and tired, saying something like, "If I never get on a bicycle saddle again, it'll be too soon."

Needless to say, after that, Franny and I were never "on the same page" concerning outdoor adventures, or anything else, for that matter...she went to work, I packed my one duffel and hitch-hiked eastward to Michigan, for more hugs, and a new bike....a Motobecane Grand Jubilee. My sister and her boyfriend owned a bicycle shop in Battle Creek, they helped me experience what it was like to straddle a quality bicycle...which, of course, caused me to fantasize about the mountains I would explore, under my own power, all over western North America.

Mongrel Cyclist 1970

Spring of 1970, I was new to the SF Bay area and I'd just purchased a used (and immediately unreliable) motor vehicle from a Ford dealer in Oakland. I made a wise decision and bought a new "Ten Speed" in Martinez, Ca. to back up the (smoke and fire prone) Mercury Meteor...just in case.

My first ride of any note was an outing to the top of the most prominent local Lookout, Mt. Diablo. My new car's transmission had caught fire while climbing the same, the week before.

I had no idea that this, admittedly ambitious and according to my fellow workers...impossible, feat would cause me to catch fire with a life-long enthusiasm for the "sport" of bicycle riding.

I found the downhill to be far more harrowing, with steel rims and brand new brake pads, than the climb. Before the actual bottom of the mountain I noticed, what I thought was, a parallel double-track ranch road and I reasoned that if I had to crash, due to poor brakes, I would prefer it be on a dirt hillside, not on pavement contained by barbed wire fences. The dirt track meandered for a couple of miles before dropping steeply to an old ranch house and stables at the bottom of the descent. An old guy in a cowboy hat growled at me to get off his property and "wipe that stupid grin off your face."

I had discovered a couple of important things about myself on this mountain; I was more capable in the arena of self-propulsion than I had ever imagined, and riding on dirt with skinny tires can cause everlasting smiles.

Bodfish Vacation Formula

Vacation perfection is not all that difficult to come by. It requires travel away from here...we live in a vacation wonderland but still, it's great to get away. Bicycles are most often part of the formula, yet, hiking boots are an acceptable substitute. Driving a car, taking a train or a jet are ok...however, biking or hiking from our front door is a great way to begin an adventure. A majority of outdoor time is a definite requirement. At least two hours of 'sweat on the brow' exercise makes us happiest. Bodfish vacations also include a couple of hours luxuriating in the "s's", the daily rituals of swimming, showering and sunning or sauna.

Cold fronts can change everything, and have been known to cramp our camping style. We don't embark on Snow Vacations...snow is for shoveling or taking the dog on a run while on cross country skis or snowshoes. We seek warmth, but we are adamant about avoiding crowds...we avoid "snowbird" destinations like "the plague". There are rumblings in my family about a Hawaii vacation in our near future...hmmm, can you still get remote in Hawaii?

I'm looking forward to another month long adventure in Europe...sometime before Obama loses the Presidency...the Euros love Obama, or any American with a "social agenda". They can teach us a thing or two about taking care of each other...and about being totally comfortable in our skin, on a beach, in a pool, sauna or spa... uninhibited, always willing to share wine and soap. What's up with those outdoor Europeans?...Lovin' life, willing to converse, willing to break bread. Don't they fear a future of austerity, a future that includes ten Euro a gallon petrol prices? No, I don't think they do...they'll ride their bicycles and tend their gardens like they always have and toast you, and your adventure, each evening with their favorite local wine.

We may spend a bundle of money on a train or plane ticket yet, we are downright frugal about buying entertainment while traveling. The best quality food is seldom expensive and the evening wine always seems like a bargain. We don't always sleep in a tent, on occasion we find a cabin or a Gites if it is safer or drier than our camping dome. Heck, we buy mustard that comes in wine glasses so that we can use these nearly unbreakable units for the remainder of the trip.

Traveling companions with the same attitude or style would be hard to come by, we think about that on every adventure..."who could possibly travel with us for a month and not get freaked out about the details?" Our plans change every other day or so, depending on so many factors. In the half-abandoned Autumn campgrounds of France or Italy we often find other couples using our same techniques of vacationing. They are usually from Germany or Holland or Denmark, we connect, go on a bike ride or to the beach, bathe together and share a glass of vino, but then, after sharing addresses...Poof!, we go our own ways and promise to get in touch again someday.