by Glenn Weyant

Created on: April 21, 2009

In the mid-90's I lived on Nantucket.

Having survived a winter on the island, I learned through the grapevine that Young's Bike Shop was selling all their summer rentals, custom designed Cannondales, for $200 each.

I bought one, strapped a canteen on the rack and never looked back.

Having grown up in highway bound New Jersey, riding a bike was what you did until you were old enough to drive a car.

Once the driver's license was in hand, the bike was forgotten.

Like drinking and smoking and sex, it was a right of passage.

Getting back on a bike for the first on Nantucket, I was instantly reconnected with a flood of childhood memories, some 15 years forgotten.

The physical sensation alone, of balance and freedom and independence was wonderully liberating.

For two years that bike it was my main source of transportation on the island.

It became my salvation.

My freedom.

And it opened my eyes to another way of travelling.

Fast forward to today, living now in Tucson, Az. bike culture is still as important as ever, but I live a blended life of bike and car.

Long before gas prices began their steep incline I was biking to work, and often found myself alone during the commute.

Then as prices rose I discovered a morning bike commute was forming.

Today those numbers are dwindling again as gas prices are falling and more people choose to drive with air conditioning because of the heat.

And that is where the issue of high gas prices seems to lie.

Embracing bike culture as a way of life (Live To Ride/ Ride To Live) vs. riding because you have too, will forever keep our dependence on energy powered vehicles in tact.

The same holds true with walking, carpooling and mass transportation.

Rather than being temporary solutions to a problem, they need to become woven into our way of living.

Until then gas prices will remain high.

It's a simple matter of supply and demand.

Twas ever thus and it is a situation that we as consumers create through our personal transportation choices.

Now back to my ancient Cannondale.

The other day I was riding down a back street and two young kids in their early teens pulled up beside me.

One was drinking a Gatorade, the other a candy bar, each was riding a small, gleaming bike better suited for doing stunts than long distance riding.

As they passed they made roaring sounds, like lions or dragons, then laughing they disappeared down an alley.

It took me a few moments to figure it out, but eventually it dawned on me they were making dinosaur sounds, a modern bike culture commentary on my ride of choice, giving new meaning to the term fossil fuel.

And that gave me hope.

Perhaps bike culture is taking hold after all.

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