Water, Water Everywhere

In the morning they did warn me
it would be a day of rain.
But how could I've predicted
such tumult on its way!
Stroke after stroke I pedaled
with a swift and forceful motion,
but water fell upon me
as if amidst a stormy ocean.

Water, water everywhere

and not a drop to drink!

Water, water everywhere,

my bike did nearly sink!

And so November is upon us, and with it the November Rain.  Funny, because I don't remember it being quite this bad last year, but I've probably just blocked it out. Today it rained so hard, that the water not only covered my face, but went inside my nose and mouth. Feeling as if I might drown while cycling was a curious sensation. I could hardly see anything in front of me, but thankfully drivers seemed to all be showing remarkable courtesy. Maybe they just couldn't believe that a cyclist was on the road in such a downpour and felt sorry for me. 

When it is raining this hard, I prefer to be on a heavy, upright, and exceptionally stable bike. When I owned my Pashley, I often talked of how good it was for cycling in the rain. To my relief, the vintage Gazelle is the same, if not better. The handling makes this bike unfellable. The enormous wheels and wide tires part lake-sized puddles, grip slippery surfaces, and float over potholes. The fenders release a mighty spray and keep my beige raincoat beige. Defiant in the downpour, I cycled with dignity even as water streamed down my face. And I arrived at my destinations only slightly worse for wear.

The other two things I like to have when cycling in the rain are good lights and a saddle cover. I was not sure how well the bottle dynamo would function when wet, but it was absolutely fine (I am beginning to develop a  fondness for the bottle) - and my LED-modified headlight made me highly visible. As for the saddle cover, despite having accumulated many Brooks covers at this point, my preferred method is to use a ratty plastic grocery bag. The plastic bag performs two functions: it is more waterproof (gasp!) than a Brooks saddle cover, and it makes the bicycle look considerably less appealing to thieves. Not that many thieves would be tempted to drag away a 50lb clunker with a locked rear wheel in a downpour...

And speaking of dragging: I must say that carrying a wet, slippery 50lb bicycle up the stairs is even more delightful than doing so with a dry one. I have noticed that when it comes to lifting a heavy step-through, it is important to find a comfortable spot to grip - one that is well balanced and will prevent the bicycle from twisting or buckling in my arms as I attempt to maneuver it. Despite being heavier than my previously-owned Pashley, the Gazelle has a better "sweet spot" in this regard, and so I find it easier to carry... just not when the frame is slick from the rain. Still, I managed to wrestle the enormous Dutch creature up the stairs and through the door without either of us taking a spill, after which we had a cup of tea and recited poetry together. It is essential to have a bicycle that is more than a fair weather friend. 

Cycling and Suffering

In my view, the most unfortunate myth about cycling for transportation is that it is difficult. Understandably, this is how non-cyclists often perceive it - due to the overabundance of athletic cyclists and heavily armoured utility cyclists on the roads in comparison to cyclists who look like regular people. But even among the "everyday cyclists",  I feel that there is a tendency to focus on the challenging aspects of riding a bike in a way that takes pride in these challenges and thereby dwells on them: the pain of cycling uphill, the heroics of cycling in cold weather, the battle of cycling in traffic... Come on, be fair! Cycling is fun and convenient, giving us the most independence and flexibility of all other transport options. Compared to the poor drivers stuck in traffic and the users of public transport pushing their ways through overcrowded buses, we coast through life with smiles on our faces.

[image via BostonBiker.org]

Reading Boston Biker this week, I was reminded of my all time favourite misrepresentation of cycling's "difficulties": Our love of exaggerating the fortitude of cycling in the rain. On cycling blogs, we often read stories that describe a non-cyclist asking a cyclist, "But what do you do when it rains?" and the cyclist replying "I get wet!" After this exchange is retold in the blog post, the author will then muse about how people nowadays are out of touch with the elements, and how ridiculous it is that "the car culture" has taught us to fear getting rained on. This, however, is simply untrue. Car culture did not teach us to dislike getting rained on. Seeking protection from the elements is a natural impulse that has been with us pretty much forever. In non-car-oriented societies people still use umbrellas and hide under awnings. Cave people sought shelter in caves. It is completely normal not to want to get rained on on the way to work or a date, so that we can both arrive in dignity and not come down with the flu the next day.

[image via BostonBiker.org]

Cyclists however, sometimes seem to experience pride from getting soaking wet in the rain, and this pride translates into projecting an intimidating image to those who do not ride a bike. The non-cyclist is given to understand, that in order to embrace cycling they must accept the idea that getting wet is "normal" rather than something to be avoided... In other words, to accept an idea that goes against people's natural instincts since the dawn of civilization.

I don't know about you. But when a non-cyclist asks me what I do when it rains, I reply that I wear a raincoat. When a non-cyclist asks me about hills, I explain that I switch to a lower gear and pedaling gets easy again. And when a non-cyclist asks me whether I am scared of traffic, I point out that it was less scary than driving once I got used to it. And all of these things are true. Why tell them I am suffering, when I am not?