Two people converse next to a high-wheel bicycle at the fence of the first home of Alfred W. Bitting, 259 North Emporia Avenue, Wichita, c. 1882. Unknown photographer. Click image to enlarge. Repository: Wichita-Sedgwick County Historical Museum. Image found here.
I don't know whether the bicycle in the picture belonged to the Bitting family or to a visitor. But it doesn't matter. What matters for purposes of this (very long) piece is what that bicycle suggests to me and, indeed, what cycling has come to embody for me: an easy, practical means for its owner to maintain a connection with others who don't live within its owner's immediate vicinity.
Something I'd never before imagined myself seeing was a philosophical kinship of any sort between Copenhagen Cycle Chic and Front Porch Republic. But that was before this morning. As strange a confluence as this is, though, it matters to you--or should--if you share my interest in trying to shift the conceptual frame cycling gets placed in by Wichitans--even by most cyclists--known by the insidious term "lifestyle." Until that shift occurs, we'll continue to see really, really nice bike paths built that don't really go to places where people live, work and shop and, at the same time, a continued lack of on-street infrastructure for cyclists that would facilitate their getting to places where they do live, work and shop.
As declared and sponsored by the League of American Cyclists, May is Bike Month, the week of May 11-15 is Bike-to-Work Week, and on May 15 each and every one of you is encouraged to take to the streets on a two-wheeled person-powered conveyance to your place of employ. Why? Oh, the usual: consciousness-raising--on the part of would-be cyclists (as they navigate their cities' streets in a very different manner) as well as of motorists. It's obviously a Good Thing to do, all the way 'round.
I hope you'll see if there's a Bike-to-Work activity in your town. Even if there isn't, though, consider participating anyway.
When I first got into this bike-commuting stuff, I looked but for some reason could not locate a photo of Miss Gulch in full Toto-hunting mode. But my bike-bloggy friend Andrew of Carbon Trace recently posted this pic over at his place, and I thank him for helping me share it with you good people.
Back during the summer, I'd merely wanted this pic for the obvious associative Kansas=Wizard of Oz connection and also to do the ol' self-deprecating bit. But while looking at it early this morning (before I'd had my coffee, mind), something occurred to me: Just as all Kansas residents will perforce, sooner or later, have to ponder his/her position relative to the undeniable fact that his/her state will forever be linked in the American pop-culture zeitgeist to The Wizard of Oz, for good or ill, so also, I mused drowsily this morning, must the would-be Kansas cyclist interested in using bicycles for more than sport or recreational purposes come to terms with the iconic but complicated figure of Miss Gulch as a Kansas cyclist, embodying both the dreams and nightmares of bike-riders from Kansas City to Kanorado, from Northbranch to South Haven. Let's get the unpleasant elements of Gulch's character out of the way first, since they are more easily dispatched. To begin with, it is difficult for me, at least, to disassociate her from Kansas' most familiar meteorological phenomenon--and, I'm here to tell you from personal experience, THE bane of cyclists here--the wind. It is fated: the very name of the state comes from a Sioux word that means "south wind." Viewers of The Wizard of Oz will remember that Gulch arrives at Dorothy's farm, ostensibly to collect and impound Toto. But Margaret Hamilton's entrance in the film clearly depicts her as a Horseman of the Apocalypse, which Apocalypse of course will soon be visiting the farm in the form of a tornado. Now, true: we don't ride into the teeth of cyclones 'round these parts; on the other hand, sometime you should try riding straight into a steady 20-mph wind (not a daily occurrence, but not uncommon, either) for half of your ten-mile commute. It's physically exhausting, of course; even worse, though, is the psychological toll it takes on a rider when the wind just. Will. Not. Stop.
[Aside: the other day I was heading east, with the wind blowing like that from the south--so hard that at one point I suddenly realized that I was leaning slightly into the wind just to stay upright on my bike. Weird, I tell ya.]
Gulch's ill temper, I assume, probably manifests itself as self-righteousness in other contexts; and cyclists, like some of the newly-converted of any actual or figurative religion, either can fall prey to such a tendency out of zeal or, alternately, encounter other cyclists more filled with the zeal to share the faith than they themselves are. Consider, for example, this encounter Andrew had with a fellow arguing with him over, of all things, which style of bike-rack it's preferable to park one's bicycle at. Smugness is smugness, no matter the actual rightness of that for which one feels smug.
Now, as to Gulch's dog-hating: while her complaint about Toto has nothing to do with cycling, many cyclists have to deal with dogs of various sorts while riding around. It's distracting at the very least, and often dangerous. Besides, Toto is of that breed known as the Yappy Dog, which I personally loathe. So, while as a viewer of the film I root for Dorothy and Toto because that's what the film tells me I am supposed to do, as a cyclist it's harder for me to see a problem with Gulch's wanting to lock him away.
This ambivalence I feel serves as a nice segue into noting Gulch's more positive attributes as a cyclist. First and most important, it is clear that she sees cycling not as recreation but a practical means of transportation. I mean, look at how she's dressed. The figure she cuts on her bike resembles those regularly pictured on the pages of Copenhagen Cycle Chic: professionally-dressed women wearing dresses and skirts; men in business suits. Moreover, that's no touring or mountain bike she's riding: it has her sitting ramrod straight rather than bent over in a racer's hunch, and the rear rack indicates that she regularly transports cargo besides Yappy Dogs she has judged to be miscreants.
And finally, Elmira Gulch paradoxically provides the Kansas cyclist an actual glimpse of cycling Nirvana: she feels so safe while cycling she's not wearing a helmet. While riding without a helmet is a risky thing to do in urban areas in the States, there are places in the world where cycling is so much the norm and the street infrastructure for supporting cycling so substantial, wearing a helmet is regarded as not only unnecessary but weird. If you're a cyclist here in the States, just you try watching the video below without wistfully sighing a bit and wishing that riding in the city were just a bit more like this:
I don't sigh when I see a helmetless Elmira Gulch, just to reassure my readers. But I do feel the desire to feel safer when cycling, and there is something about Gulch's godawful hat that makes me think, What goes around comes around. A better day for Kansas cyclists may yet be in the offing. Archetypes, after all, don't signify themselves but a constellation of images and associations, negative as well as positive. I do wish Kansas cyclists had a better archetype than Elmira Gulch--I mean, her, compared to John Henry?? Still, times being what they are for cyclists here, we'll take what we can get.
Well, not really, or not yet. But I do feel at times as though I've gotten religion. Did you know, for example, that of major metropolitan areas, Wichita ranks third from the bottom in the percentage of people who bike-commute? The city also, coincidentally, has one of the lowest average commute times in the U.S. (16.5 minutes), which tells you that the city is (still) pretty compact, doesn't have a lot of traffic AND, thus, would be ideal for bike-commuting if it had, you know, a few dedicated bike lanes.
Still, you'll probably breathe a huge sigh of relief to learn that it's not my intention to fill up this space with cycling posts, especially ones focusing on Wichita-specific matters.
So, um, I've started up another blog for that: the unimaginatively-titled Cycling in Wichita. Over there, you'll find lots of talk about local stuff, links to cycling-advocacy groups, cycling clubs, blogs, NGOs dedicated to getting bikes to people in impoverished countries, and the very cool Veloroutes, which uses Google Maps to let you map out routes; calculates distances, times and speeds; and even calculates changes in elevation and grade. You'll see an occasional cross-post from over there pop up here, but in general those of you who prefer good old Blog Meridian to remain secular in tone will, for the most part, avoid being evangelized.
Anyway. If you're at all curious, I hope you'll pay the occasional visit over there.
Through Today at the Mission (hat-tip: Ariel) comes news of an organization called Africycle, a Canadian-based charitable organization dedicated to both raising money for providing quality used bicycles to people in Malawi and maintaining bicycle repair shops in Malawi.
From the website: "Many Malawians experience difficulty accessing quality bicycles, due to economic constraints and the limited availability of affordable, reliable bicycles in the local market. Africycle believes that by providing bicycles it can be a catalyst for sustainable and effective development in Malawian communities."
Granted, Wichita is not Malawi, and the statement above refers overtly to economic development. But yesterday morning, as I did a bit of errand-running via my bike (in a moderate but steady rain), I gave the Wichita version of this some thought. The nearest full-service grocery store is now about 3 miles from where I live (until this spring when it closed, there had been one just a mile away). But as I rode about in my neighborhood, I noted that I can meet just about any other basic or recurring need I might have within an easy ride of where I live. Case in point: I'm due for a haircut. I'd gotten into the habit of going to Wal-Mart to get it cut there (decent--I'm not particular about haircuts--and cheap). But on my route yesterday I passed two barbershops that offer cheaper haircuts. Moreover, there are two good used bookstores in the neighborhood (one of which I'd not noticed until yesterday). And so on. Also, I got to greet some people in the neighborhood as I rode past their houses.
You see where I'm going with this, I hope. Before, when I was going on all Walden-like about this, I'd focused on the personal and (true, infinitesimal in and of themselves) global benefits of my cycling about town. Something I'd not really considered, though, is that by making more purchases here in this part of town, I can do my small part to help keep some folks in business (some of them look like they could use the revenue). I'll also feel more like I do more than just sleep here--I'll feel like I live here.
UPDATE: Apropos of cycling in urban areas, via this Matthew Yglesias post noting the death of a cyclist in Washington, D.C., comes the new-to-me notion of bike boxes. Portland, Oregon, already one of the bike-friendliest cities in the U.S., is beginning to install them. These are already used in some European cities; I hope those of you from Europe can comment on what expenses are involved with creating bike-boxes, aside from having to repaint some intersections.
Two people converse next to a high-wheel bicycle at the fence of the first home of Alfred W. Bitting, 259 North Emporia Avenue, Wichita, c. 1882. Unknown photographer. Click image to enlarge. Repository: Wichita-Sedgwick County Historical Museum. Image found here.
