BP, The Bike, The Biker, and The Blog

Day One of my car-free summer involved me sleeping in until 10 to avoid the inevitable: go nowhere, go by bike, or walk. When the rain petered out and the sky turned a less ominous shade of gray, I prepared for my first outing, which really wasn't any different than any other bike trip I've taken lately, except for the fact that if I forgot anything on my circle through town, the return trip could not involve a 2001 Toyota Tacoma.

This required some advance planning, most of which made me realize that I live ridiculously close to all of the so-called essentials: the bank, the post office, the video store, the bookstore, the library, and the grocery store are all within walking distance, and the liquor store is a little father away, but still a do-able walk. Art supplies, which are always on the list, are a little harder to walk to. But the fact that I had to ride my bike to get them, as opposed to driving, required me to build a plan around a bike-to-able store. Biking to Jo-Ann at Sunset Square, or Michaels on the Guide, are out of the question, as I am trying to avoid death, so I ended up at Dakota Art downtown: easy-to-get-to and local. My only complaint: the city-provided bike rack outside doesn't accomodate U-locks.

This craziness (the car-free summer) was inspired by a series of events: 1) the ever-widening expanse of my ass; 2) the fact I "need" things that I can live without or get to without driving and yet, like a spoiled idiot, I continue to drive to get them; 3) the fact that practically everything I own is made out of petroleum and there's no getting around that and yet I'm still really pissed at BP's horrific leadership, abyssmal management, and devastating impact on animals and the environment. Also, for me, life is defined by summer: the summer I learned how to surf; the summer I nannied; the summer I _____. You know what I mean. This summer, for me, needed a "the summer I____." So I picked car-free, damnit. By the end of the season, my ass is going to hurt like hell. But at least it will be smaller.