Monday, February 23, 2009

Anthropomorphizing



Do you ever project your thoughts and feelings onto your bike? I do.
Bicycles are closely tied to human behavior; both in a literal and figurative sense.

tragedy tore us apart
When I discuss NYC bike culture with fellow bicyclists and various other persons someone inevitably complains about the dangerous behavior they witness. We weave in an out of traffic more aggressively if we had a bad day. We disregard traffic lights if we sense there are no consequences. Or, the conversation can turn to the positive. We pick a bike based on whether we want to ride slow, or fast, or convey a sense of style. We stroll down the street with our friends to exhibit solidarity.

The bike as an object is subject to assigned emotions.
When we ride we say we feel free or are empowered. We use this blog to assign Michael's bike a fitting name. Guilt ensues when one leaves her bike locked up overnight in a strange neighborhood because she drank too many bushmills and ginger ale and was too drunk to be in charge of her bicycle.

The point being, this past week I had to leave my bike in two different places (once due to the said drinking and once due to being out when the winds tore up cars and trees). I felt a strange sense of loneliness. I worried that my bike would be abused or stolen. I interpreted the slight squeak on the ride home today as somehow symptomatic of my abandonment.
Have you had such experiences? Please share.

2 comments:

sindändùne said...

It is always traumatic to leave your bike parked somewhere. I specially hate it when I wake up after a night out and realise it might have, as you say, been abused or stolen; there is a pinch of guilt it isn't there?

Marc P Santos said...

I don't know how ya'll can do it. Especially in NYC! My friends taught me to build drunk-riding tolerance by practicing. And I have to walk my bike home or to a hideout in bad weather.

My bike is my cheap date I take everywhere. plus I can crash into a mugger on a bike if I'm drunk. higher my chances of survival in NOLA.