Cycling has become a moral imperative these days. In the last few weeks I have encountered more than one cyclist pedalling furiously, helmet in place. Most have been in National Parks, perhaps practicing for that other moral imperative of our times – raising money by cycling/running some predetermined distance. But a few have been on city roads, barely managing to avoid being roadkill. I have an old fashioned view of bicycles and still feel uncomfortable with the new versions where the cyclist is kind of bent and wearing a helmet. This pose gives the cyclist a decidedly professional and determined air and I am reliably informed that the avid cycling enthusiast is not very different from the girl in pursuit of a brand. Cycles these days are expensive, high maintenance vehicles, which is a far cry from the Rs. 300 bicycle that you pumped manually. And then there is the rest – knee caps, helmets, clothes et al.
The new cycling leaves me very depressed. It has little of the amateur and even the sense of fun of old cycling. It is hard to imagine a “Jules et Jim” cycling scene these days or the old Hindi films where collegians managed to sing and wave their arms and cycle. Hard even, in Sydney, to imagine the convivial cycling masses of old Beijing or small towns in India. No cyclist here smiles or looks even remotely cheerful – absent is the sense of insouciance so integral to cycling. They are making a point and you had better not forget it.
Irate cyclists write to the newspapers – a war is on between the pedallers and the petrolheads on the streets. Forgotten in all this is the walker. You cannot walk in a park these days without being run over by a cyclist furiously bent on single handedly breaking the park’s last record, for the park is now a velodrome. Worse are the families that cycle together – in packs and keen on burning up the calories, they force you onto the grass with not a word of apology. Ambling or indeed even cycling with no particular goal has become a forgotten art. Make amateurism a moral imperative you want to cry before nimbly stepping aside for the manic pedaller.
The new cycling leaves me very depressed. It has little of the amateur and even the sense of fun of old cycling. It is hard to imagine a “Jules et Jim” cycling scene these days or the old Hindi films where collegians managed to sing and wave their arms and cycle. Hard even, in Sydney, to imagine the convivial cycling masses of old Beijing or small towns in India. No cyclist here smiles or looks even remotely cheerful – absent is the sense of insouciance so integral to cycling. They are making a point and you had better not forget it.
Irate cyclists write to the newspapers – a war is on between the pedallers and the petrolheads on the streets. Forgotten in all this is the walker. You cannot walk in a park these days without being run over by a cyclist furiously bent on single handedly breaking the park’s last record, for the park is now a velodrome. Worse are the families that cycle together – in packs and keen on burning up the calories, they force you onto the grass with not a word of apology. Ambling or indeed even cycling with no particular goal has become a forgotten art. Make amateurism a moral imperative you want to cry before nimbly stepping aside for the manic pedaller.
PS: Salon wants you to take a walk.
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