How to Ride a Bike

Dear Marianne Chrisos,

I was recently informed that you've forgotten how to ride a bike. You learned, but then you forgot, and you'd like to remember, to recall what it feels like to ride, the sensation. Here's what I offer:

Riding a bicycle is like playing a video game in real life. Chicago, specifically the North Shore, is fantastic for this. You choose the terrain: urban city streets, lakefront beach, the grassy knolls of Lake Shore and Lincoln Park. You choose day or night, heavy traffic or light. You can compete with those around you or just yourself. You can time it, or ride a certain number of miles, or just get on the bike and go. I like having a destination, something farther away, a few miles maybe, so I can feel my heart pumping and my skin heating up. I like riding in the cool fall, crunching through leaves, manually warming up my body, watching my own breath hit me in the face.

You start slow, rolling the bike for a few steps in the driveway, until you stop and swing your leg over. You put your right foot on its corresponding pedal and push down, lifting the other leg off the ground and finding balance as the wheels roll forward, taking you with them. Before you lose momentum, you put your left foot on the other pedal and push again, and then again with your right, and then again with your left. You may wobble for a minute, which is what the training wheels were for on your first bike, but you have a lower center of gravity now. Being short and female is helpful in that regard.

It's true, your butt hurts more on a real bike than on the video game bike. But that's okay because you're earning it. Once you get moving, you feel the wind in your hair and smell whatever season has crept over Lake Michigan. I like riding on rainy days because the air is cleanest and smells like laundry detergent designed to smell like fresh air. I also like riding on rainy days because it makes me feel like a badass. I ride harder and faster, feeling my heart quicken and my thighs ache as I push right, left, right, left, over and over, dodging raindrops. I stand up and push down with my body weight on the pedals to go faster, to keep up with the cars on Halsted Street. They usually pass me, but during rush hour I can easily outstrip an entire line from Wellington to Fullerton.

I pedal so hard that I arrive at my destination exhausted, in need of refreshment. Local tea and soup sales go up exponentially as cold weather grips the city and cyclists suffer runny noses and inclement weather. It's only September, but I've already bought enough hot beverages to pay for a new branch of a needlessly expensive coffee chain. (To whom it may concern: Corner of Sheridan and Irving Park, please. And make it snappy. Winter's coming.)

Once you work up some speed on the bike, or if you're on your way home at the end of a long day, you may choose to stop pedaling and drift. I wear a hat and gloves, and I sit up and take one hand off the handlebars, stretching my back up straight, watching my fellow urbanites or the city skyline to the south. Sometimes I stick my legs out to the side, brushing the grass or the puddles beneath me. If I ride through a big puddle, I bend my knees to lift my shoes up out of the water's spray, squealing involuntarily. I try not to splash runners or fellow bicyclists. They're already soaking wet, though, so it really doesn't make a difference except that it makes me look like a jerk for splashing them with more frigid water.

I would be remiss if I described the joys but did not outline the rules of the road. We're in America, so ride on the right side. We're in a major metropolis, so ride in the street, not on the sidewalks. Beware of turning vehicles, parked vehicles, and all vehicles. Put a white flashing light on the front of your bike and a red flashing light on the back, and tuck in your right pant leg so it doesn't get caught in the gears. (Getting tangled up is an unpleasant experience, especially in the middle of the Clark/Halsted/Barry six-way intersection.) And since there may be kids reading, wear a helmet.

So, want to go for a ride sometime?

Sincerely,

Brittany Petersen