The Widower’s Rant: Bicycles are Freedom

Nov 5, 2024

7 min read

We were fortunate to see U2 at the Sphere this past October. I wrote about music and this concert earlier. In “Tryin’ to Throw Your Arms Around the World,” Bono sings,

And a woman needs a man

Like a fish needs a bicycle

I found this lyric amusing. Then, I discovered that the line is a quotation from Irina Dunn and is a feminist slogan that a woman can live her life perfectly well without a man. Based on an albeit small sample size of the single women I’ve known, I tend to agree. Anyway, I’m not digressing; I promise I’ll tie this together. Stay tuned.

Beth loved bikes—we both did. One of the reasons she chose UC Davis is because it is America’s Bike Capital. Another reason is the streets are arranged in an Alphanumeric grid. This dramatically improved her odds of returning to her dorm, apartment, or sorority house on her bike. We also both picked Davis because it was two hours from skiing at Tahoe. When we met, I was a moderately serious cyclist. I built my road bike (sew-ups and Campagnolo era) and rode the Davis Double-Century and other centuries. I rode six days a week. A couple of back-to-back crashes in one season poured a little cold water on my enthusiasm for road bikes, but I loved being on my bike. The wind through my hair. Ah, hair. Another nice memory.

Bikes mean freedom. This was especially true for kids. You could only walk so far from home, but a bike transported you to the other side of town, to distant friends, to stores, and to adventures. With a playing card in the spokes, your bike could be a rocket ship. A precarious board in the middle of the street with a brick under one end to make a ramp transformed you into Evel Knievel. Bikes are magic.

I had a paper route. Every afternoon after school, I folded papers, stuffed them into my carrier bag, and tied them to the handlebars of my BMX bike. My route was a trailer park, which was very desirable. The density meant you could deliver more papers more quickly. Being a paperboy was great training. You had to go out and sell new subscriptions (“Starts”); unsurprisingly, I was a top sales achiever in the city. You had to go door to door to collect monthly subscription payments and pay the route supervisor for your papers, which meant you effectively ran a small business. I would go to the swap meet with my dad and buy worn-out bikes. Then I’d tear them down, paint, rebuild them, and sell them. Beth talked about moving from Phila to Newport Beach, getting a 10-speed bike, and riding to Little Corona Beach every day during the summer. For both of us, bikes were part of the fabric of being a kid.

Fun Fact: Beth and I both ran into parked cars with new bikes when we were young. I was riding my brand-new Schwinn Pea-Picker and, for some reason, looking down at my feet when I ran into a parked station wagon. I was uninjured, but the front wheel was stuck under the bumper, and I could not free it fast enough before my dad saw it. He was not thrilled I mangled the new chrome front fender. Beth had her brand-new 10-speed bike in Newport. Unaccustomed to shifting and hills, she, too, was looking down and ran into a car. She got banged up pretty badly. She remembers this because she had to start the first day of a new school in a new town covered in scratches and bandages.

When we first lived together in our apartment in Irvine, I brought my two bikes with me. When Beth earned her first big paycheck as a stockbroker, she bought a bike. She loved that red Specialized Rockhopper. I remember one afternoon, she suggested we go on a bike ride together. I emerged from the bedroom wearing a full cycling kit - jersey, chamois-padded shorts, and leather Sidi cleats. Beth was wearing beach shorts and a T-shirt. She looked me over and stated, “We have very different ideas of what a fun bike ride should be.”

At the time, my idea was that bike rides were exercise and that you had to push yourself to go further and faster. Beth wanted to pedal around and smell the roses.

Admonished, I quickly retreated and changed so we could enjoy pedaling around in the sunshine together. From that point forward, bikes became a pivotal ingredient in our lives and many of our travel adventures. As I scan our photos, searching for images with Beth on a bike, I see that there are too many to share, but each brings a smile to my face. I remember the milestones as our kids graduated from trikes to training wheels to little bikes to bigger bikes. In 2004, we looked into a trip to the Burgundy Canals. The picture of bikes on the deck of the converted private barge sealed the deal. We told the owners about our two kids and they promised there would be bikes for all. But Lauren was too small for their bikes. To Beth's delight, they promptly took us to the Super Marché and bought Lauren a bike that fit. Lauren called it "Flash." The memories of riding alongside Beth by the canals, into villages, and stopping among the sunflowers are among my most precious.

Fifteen years later, on a trip to Lake Garda, I lined up rental bikes near our AirBnb. We picked the hotel we stayed at in Santa Barbara because they provided beach cruisers. Beth reveled in riding alongside the beach. Riding bikes with her dad on the Atlantic City Boardwalks was an annual highlight. Two of our recent family vacations in Lake Tahoe with the kids featured riding bikes on the many trails around the lake. Being on a bike was Beth’s happy place.

In Geyserville, we enjoyed riding our bikes along the vineyards of the Alexander Valley. Beth named her bike, "Amelia" because Amelia Erhart went on adventures and got lost. Beth loved Amelia, and especially riding Amelia.

Bikes are freedom. Since living in Incline, I have rediscovered and embraced this. I use mine as often as I can. Errand to the post office? Bike. Need something from Ace Hardware? Bike. Free hour? Bike. I've been loving my eMTB and careening down the Flume Trail with sweeping views of the lake. Today, another first in my year of firsts - I took the bike on a snow-covered trail. What a hoot!

From the saddle of my bike, when the world in motion streams through the lenses of my sunglasses (or my ski goggles, for that matter), past my corneas, and slams into my retinas, the world feels like it did when I was 5, 15, or 25. Bikes are a time machine.

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving. Albert Einstein

In 2021, we rented a house in Incline Village for a summer family holiday. Of our many adventures, we rode bikes together on the East Shore Trail to Sand Harbor State Beach. On the rocks of Sand Harbor, we took the photo that became our New Year card, overlooking the lake's west shore. Biking in Tahoe is meaningful to our clan. Right after we bought our Tahoe house, we immediately set out to buy a pair of eBikes to ride the trails around the lake and back up to our Home. They were magical, and I’ve rarely seen Beth as happy as when we took our first rides from our new home, exploring our new neighborhood on our new bikes. We envisioned years of riding bikes together around Tahoe.

Shortly after Beth died, I returned to Tahoe and rode my bike on the bike trails around the lake. It wasn’t the best feeling leaving her lonely bike behind in the garage, but being on the trails reminded me how much she loved riding her bike alongside the lake. One day, I was on the East Shore Trail near our home, and on the new bike trail bridges alongside the lake, I noticed metal fish, specifically Trout, affixed to the railings.

Families and supporters purchased the Trout to help raise money to build the trail. One thing led to another, and I met Amy, the founder/CEO—the motive force behind the Tahoe Fund. It is an outstanding public/private partnership. “The goal of the Tahoe Fund is to be a major source of private funding for environmental projects around the Lake Tahoe Basin with an emphasis on forest health, lake clarity, sustainable recreation, transportation, and stewardship.” After learning of their mission and accomplishments and that the East Shore Trail was just one of hundreds of projects their small team shepherds, I could not help but become a sustaining supporter myself.

And then the kids and I had an idea.

This is Beth’s Fish on the East Shore Trail near Sand Harbor. Beth’s Fish has a forever view across Lake Tahoe, looking at the Western Sierras, where we had our first date and uncountable ski trips. From the beach near our home, I can look across the bay and see the bridge, and Beth’s Fish (well, with really strong binoculars).

Her Fish was installed a few weeks ago. On my first available moment, I walked over to her Fish, and touched it. I fell to my knees as tears fell from my cheeks. But the emotion was not overwhelming sadness. It was gratitude and comfort to know that every day, Beth’s Fish on a bike trail looks over the crystal clear waters, blue skies, pine trees, and mountains of this very important place on our planet. Our Happy Place.

I hope you come and visit Bethie’s Fishie with me one day. Because this fish needs a bicycle.