Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
When I tell people I’m doing my PhD on cycling, it is a fair assumption for them to make that I am a mad-keen cyclist who is super hardcore about it, and rides everywhere on either a flashy road bike or a super cool vintage bike or a bespoke something or other. That I hate cars and want everyone to cycle and think everyone who doesn’t sucks and is lazy and hates the environment. Then they ask me what kind of bike I have and I’m like… uh…. I have a black one?
Most PhD students, I gather, have a creeping, unhelpful, feeling of fraudulence. That they aren’t proper academics. They don’t know that much about their topic. They have no idea what they’re doing. Well, I have all that (all-the-frickin-day I have that), but I also have this extra feeling of being a total fraud because, well, I’m a really crappy advocate for cycling. And its my research topic.
I am lazy. I don’t like physical exercise that much. Except for yoga, and even then I haven’t made it to a class for weeks. I don’t like the wind. I don’t like the rain. I’m also scared of pretty much everything. I’m scared of being attacked, I’m scared of making eye contact with a crazy person who will start talking to me and then I’ll have to be nice to them and try figure out how to run away. I’m scared of being yelled at by people in cars. I’m scared of drunk people. I’m scared of being hit by a car, as well as being almost hit by a car. I have no idea how to even start with trams. And my fear, combined with laziness and strong aversion to increasing my heart-rate even slightly, means it takes quite a bit to get me on my bike. Did I mention cycling is my research topic?
I moved to Melbourne a couple of months ago. It took a while to find a house, then move in, then get a bike, then go on holiday… then come back, and finally convince myself to ride into the city, where I work from the most glorious giant office (ok it’s called the State Library and I share my office with about a hundred other people who are also looking at eBay for junk they don’t need but would rather browse than reading journal articles).
I had to work up to it over a couple of days, make sure the weather was right, that I was “feeling up to it” or some other bullshit. Eventually, I procrastinated too long and snapped and just quickly packed my bag before I could think too much and smashed out the door with my bike into the midday sun, zooming down Malvern Road so I was quickly too far away to turn around.
When I’m focusing on all my dumb fears, I forget how wonderful it feels to ride a bike. But after all of ten seconds cycling I remember why I want everyone to have the opportunity to travel like this. It’s total independence and freedom. Once you have the bike (and any other little bits you want, like a helmet and lock and lights) it costs nothing to run. You can usually get exactly door to door. No time wasted walking from tram stops or finding a park, and over distances of less than 10km it’s often the fastest option anyway. Given a safe environment to ride in, bikes are often a much more accessible transport option for people with disabilities, older people and children, than cars or public transport.
And riding a bike is fun. You whizz past cars stuck behind someone waiting to turn; you fly down hills, you feel the wind rushing past you, smell lemon scented gums, freshly cut grass, interact in a ridiculously friendly way with pedestrians you pass (bikes makes people happy!). Once on the bike path that follows the Yarra, I could just daydream, notice birds, take a photo of a truck loaded with poor, over hot sheep and think about the politics of live export for a while, stop for a drink, enjoy listening to music, plan my research for the day, and feel pleased with myself that I was using my legs to get where I needed to go. Because I’m pretty unfit, and it was hot in the middle of the day, I arrived at the library drenched in sweat and exhausted but happy. I was able to think much more clearly and focus on my work.
And yet, despite knowing how joyful and awesome it can be to ride a bike, and how it feels to make it to the top of a hill with thighs burning and then experience the relief of coasting breezily down the other side, I still struggle to make myself get on a bike. Being so close to a beautiful river-side bike path certainly helps, but it’s the crappy bit with the hurtling BMWs and my low level of fitness that I have to work to convince myself to overcome. So, perhaps I am a lazy advocate for cycling, but at least I understand many of the fears and excuses people (especially women) use to avoid getting on a bike.
In my research I’m looking at the emotional and physical experiences people have when riding their bikes in different urban settings. I want to be able to take this data and use it to make cities that people can’t wait to ride in, where they wouldn’t even consider taking any other form of transport. I want this because I think that bicycles offer people an economically modest, environmentally responsible and socially accessible mode of transport, and that cities with high levels of bicycle tend to be very cool places to live.
When I remember this it’s a bit easier to get back on my bike to ride up another hill or brace myself against the whoosh of a car passing me. And once I get back on my bike, it’s easy to remember how much fun it is.
Georgia Scott
If you’d like to know more about my research or even volunteer to make experiential cycling maps with me in Melbourne or Perth (it’s fun, I promise!) you can get in touch through my website georgiascott.com.au or Twitter @the_wildwood.