Active Transportation - Stories
A couple summers ago I was riding on Gulf Shore Way with my friends David Sims and Orysia Dawydiak. At one point, David and I were riding side by side. He looked over at me and said, “Laurie, that bicycle of yours is a piece of crap.” To which I replied, “David, you’re the only person who I would let get away with that comment, since you’re the one who gave it to me.”
I love my bike. It came to me six years ago: a no-brand hand-me-down from David and Orysia’s Odessa Farm on the Union Road. A student had left it behind in the barn several years before that, so I can’t even tell you how old it is. David oiled it up, adjusted the gears and brakes, and dropped it off at my house unexpectedly one summer day. Up until then, I had been pretty much bike-less since my 10-speed was stolen from my apartment balcony when I was a student at University of Victoria. Before that I remember riding to junior high school on it, alongside the logging trucks that zipped by us on the highway just north of Prince George, BC. (I still shudder to think of it!) And the long lazy bike rides out to the lake with my best friend on hot August afternoons, wondering if we’d spot our favourite boys out on theirs. And before that it was the little pink model with the banana seat and butterfly handlebars with streamers and those little tickers in the spokes. I didn’t realize how much I missed having a bike until this one arrived on my doorstep.
It didn’t take long to remember all the ways I could use my bike: for exercise, for pleasure, for companionship, for transportation. Since I live a block away from the Confederation Trail I can ride to work at UPEI in 10 minutes—and make it home in 5 (who knew that UPEI was on a hill?). More often than not, this ride through the Experimental Farm, smelling the wild roses and freshly mown hay, spotting the foxes hunting for their supper and the ducks serene on the ponds, is the best part of my day.
I’ve had some great rides with friends on the Confederation Trail: out to the beach at Stanhope; to dinner and a concert at the Trailside. I’ve found the safest way to get downtown (take the Trail to Grafton Street and wend my way through the back streets to Victoria Row where I tie up to my favourite tree). I’ve bought two new tires and had the chain oiled and cleaned (by David). I’ve even figured out how to adjust the gears when they start slipping.
In theory, riding a bike should have saved on gas. In reality, my teenage daughters took the car more often. But it felt great not having to negotiate for it: I could take myself out of the equation by riding my bike. Though now that they’ve left home, and I’m planning to go back to school, the car lease is getting turned in and I’ll be car-less for the first time since I was 17. Things have almost come full circle.
As winter grinds through to spring, I should check the shed to see how “the piece of crap” is holding up. Maybe this is the year for a new seat. I know my butt would certainly appreciate it. Especially if I can talk my beau into spending a night at the Georgetown Inn—after we’ve ridden there on our bikes. I hear the proprietors have cold beer waiting if you call ahead.
