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Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
Pedalling through the freezing rain, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the universe’s way of testing my commitment to biking to work. The pelting raindrops felt like tiny, icy spears attacking my face, and I was grateful that I’d worn my not-so-stylish 1970s safety goggles left over from my high school shop days many years earlier.
Yet, despite the weather’s attempts to drench my enthusiasm, the joy of biking has a timeless quality. It’s a joy that refuses to grow up, unlike my fond memories of the monkey bars that now tear tendons I wasn’t even aware I had, or swings that now give me motion sickness. Biking, with its dirt trails and pavement adventures, still fuels the little kid in me, the one who used to have feathered, blown-back hair after a 10-minute sprint - my own version of the Eddie Van Halen hair flip (or so I hoped).
Now, it’s no longer about the wind tousling my hair. It’s about the sheer thrill of exploration, a pleasure that transcends responsibilities and worries. The early morning rides are reminiscent of my childhood escapades that made me feel like a member of a cool bike gang, with only parental curfews to contend with and the directive to be home before the streetlights came on.
Adulthood hasn’t dampened my love for biking; if anything, it’s become a remedy for the crowd-infested public transit blues. Rain, shine, snow or wind – I welcome the challenge. The physical and mental strength gained from conquering adversity on two wheels is its own reward. And the sometimes cold and wet dreary rides in the dark of Vancouver are often brightened by sightings of coyotes, owls, herons and seals, reminding me that there’s beauty even in the bleakest moments.
Biking has become my daily decompression, a meditative journey through trails and seawalls. It’s during these rides that I confront and conquer life’s challenges. Angry at the boss? Leave work furious and arrive home with a plan of action, completely oblivious to the ride in between. Mad at my spouse? Cycle through the frustration, and by the time I’ve reached the destination, I’ve hopefully evolved from grumpy to optimistic – often without a single memory of the commute.
As a parent, I’m determined to pass on my joy of biking to my son. Our early adventures involved him snug in a bike trailer, critiquing my pedalling speed and the “bumpiness” of the ride. “Daddy, you must be tired, your legs aren’t moving very fast.” Predictably, as he grew, my legs slowed down and the trailer got heavier and his complaints and demands more frequent.
Unfortunately, not every attempt to share my passion went smoothly. A trip to the local BMX track ended with me attempting a gravity-defying feat only to somersault over the handlebars and introduce my shoulder to the rough reality of the track. With bruised pride and limbs, I hopped back on my bike, while my son nonchalantly rolled up with a grin, saying, “Hey dad, how’s it going?”
Despite the occasional tumbles and humbling moments, biking remains a passion that propels me forward. It’s a journey that, much like life, demands you face obstacles and challenges head-on. Biking is not just transportation; it’s an invitation to be part of the landscape, to savour the journey rather than just rush to the destination.
My feathered hair may be a thing of the past, but biking keeps me looking ahead. Life, like a bike ride, is about navigating obstacles, overcoming challenges, and relishing the journey. In a world of fast cars and crowded buses, life on a bike allows me to become the driver of my own adventure.
Bernie Goodman lives in North Vancouver.