Why I Hate Bicycles

I almost lived on a bicycle the first 18 years of my life. The bike was a no gear no hand brake, foot brake cycle. One time the brake locked and I went over the handle bars and landed on my face, providing work for my cousin, the family dentist, to replace my two front teeth. And when I went to Princeton University, weekends I often rode my bike home to Philadelphia, of course without a helmet. Just with the right leg of my Levis rolled up so as not to get tangled in the gears. Then of course I learned how to drive and purchased an old Chevrolet, and alas, there went bike riding.  When I went to Bruxelles as a post doc I became a Vespa rider. I had some fantastic trips in Europe on the Vespa but that is another story.

The first few years I was an Assistant prof at UCLA, I rode my bike (10 gear, hand brake) to school, until the day I face planted on the inside of a car door that suddenly opened. Then we moved to Mandeville Canyon in the Santa Monica Mountains, which turned out to be the premiere 5-mile-long uphill and then downhill at top speed. Unfortunately, we had to go to the market, to restaurants and live a normal life in the city at the bottom of the race track. Often, I had to pass sometimes up to 10-20 bikes (many more on weekends and holidays) who rode in groups and refused to give way for a car. Slowly my anger at these bikes and their drivers increased, which was not decreased by angry bicyclists pounding on the side of my car and cursing. The feeling of estrangement increased as I realized that these bicycles never stopped for red lights or stop signs. In fact one time I did a California stop at the only stop sign on Mandeville and did not see the police car waiting to write me a ticket. I actually made the mistake of saying that they should give tickets to the bicyclists who bombed through the signs and the red lights. Not good at all. I think they actually increased the infraction.

I believe that this is when my bicycle costume irritation was born and increased. Full disclosure: I truly hate uniforms, from Boy Scouts in their Hitler Youth khaki uniforms, to tennis players wearing cute white uniforms, and football players covering their massive bodies with tight shirts and knicker pants and helmets that disguised the identity of the player  and with strange metal objects extending from the front of the helmet which I guess were for the opponents to grab onto while tackling. I also find coat and ties annoying. And I refuse to wear a yarmulkes in a synagogue. 

Full disclosure: I also  hate rituals, including weddings and funerals.

But most of all I began to hate bicycle uniforms, with their tight short sleeve T shirts covered with advertisements for existing and I believe imaginary companies, and their tight black short pants with little pads allowing the bicyclers backsides to sit on the tiny little bike seats without too much pain.

 And the helmets, my God the helmets, that looked like aliens come to earth. Why oh why, these esoteric helmets? Full disclosure: I actually bought one of the little black shorts with the little pads for the sake of my bony ass. But I only wore this one time, so don’t think badly of me.  And the bicyclists actually shave their arms and legs to get some extra speed coming down my hill.

 

Finally I tried to ban our street to the bicyclists by circulating a petition among residents and sending it to our invisible City Council Member. Never heard a word back.

Well, I keep telling my wife that we must move somewhere to escape bicyclists (perhaps Lombard Street  in San Francisco?) a fantasy idea that went nowhere.

 Incidentally, I plan to sell my bicycle in a garage sale. Any offer considered