What also comes from a seat of a bicycle is the unexpected gift of vulnerability. Yes, there is the unfortunate vulnerability of being the victim of an egg-crime, but there is also this special experience of deep dependency that comes when you are desperate, lonely and broke-down on the side of the road.
Hear me out on this. When was the last time you asked someone for help? Really think about it. Not just the time when you needed baking powder for a recipe and didn’t want to run to the grocery store, but the time when you were really at your wit’s end and every practical solution or stubborn independence you could normally come up with no longer applied in this situation. Maybe you were depressed and for fear of your own sanity, you finally called a friend. Maybe your car got a flat tire and it was cold outside and your phone was dead, so you did something you’ve never done, threw a thumb up in the air. Or perhaps you’re in an emergency, and you’ll do anything, you’ll ask anyone for help, a ride, a favor, all caution to the wind. What usually happens, in your moment of desperation? How do people respond? My guess is that your moment of vulnerability is often met with an eagerness, or at least- a willingness to help. I find this fascinating. I know there are a thousand different theories on the nature of man, whether we were born good and by lack of self-control, turned bad, or rather we’ve always been bad and are steadily working to earn our good points despite the long, hard rollercoaster of life- or something in-between. But I am hard-pressed to think of a single moment that I have genuinely turned to someone for help and been denied. To me, this says something about humanity. Whether you’re a pothead, a drunkard, wealthy, poor, whether you want more governance or less, whether you believe in God, gods, or no God, no matter your sexuality, nationality, gender or identity- wouldn’t you be inclined to help someone in need? My guess is yes. If I am wrong on this, blame it on my overly romantic view of humanity. But I have hunch that I am not wrong. One thing I know for sure, is that nothing points you into the arms of humanity better than the seat of a bicycle. It’s been a good eight years since my clumsy introduction to the adventure of bicycle touring that fateful day outside of Toronto. While my back finally healed, I never stopped traveling by bicycle and I never got over the hospitality I found in strangers that day. It’s been a beautiful curse that has forever marked my hope in humanity. But as I look back on cool college-Katie, unwilling to accept a ride from the most irresistible hippie boys because she was painstakingly settled in her independence, I wonder if I would have welcomed the generosity of a complete stranger had I not been in utter desperation. I’m not condoning danger for the sake of awakening. But there’s a delicate dose of vulnerability that is absolutely life-changing and unreservedly different than the comfort-seeking life many of us fall prey to and consequently, find meaningless. While bike traveling through Michigan and its upper peninsula one time, my chain broke on my bicycle and while I pride myself on roadside mechanics (You know- that stubborn independent spirit of mine), this time my chain breaker tool broke while trying to connect new chain links together. Not wanting to give in to defeat, I walked two miles to a Dollar General, where I bought a pair of plyers to push the chain links together, but being that the pair of plyers was around $1.00, they also snapped in half while in action. I still had twenty miles to bike to my campsite, the sun was on its way down, and I was out of practical solutions. Finally, in desperation, I asked someone for a ride. They were locals, just getting off their shift at a boat dock, they came to Dollar General to buy beer and go home to their wives and kids, but instead, here they were, giving a strange a ride twenty-miles out of their way. By the end of the ride, I had three new friends who I had just shared meaningful conversations with about their lives in Michigan, and my rendezvous out on the road. It wasn’t magic, it was just a simple exchange between human beings that would have otherwise been missed. I would have been suffering silently, losing hope as the day broke and dipping deeper into a lonely, existential crisis about being broken down in the middle of nowhere, all for the sake of being staunchly independent and stubborn. I like that bicycling places the rider in sometimes vulnerable positions that create a reliance on humanity. If we can’t rely on each other, then what kind of world are we living in after all?
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AuthorKatie Elizabeth: Writer, Wonderer, Wanderer. Archives
April 2022
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