The question I was asked is straightforward enough: “Why does a bike seem to be just the right speed to facilitate a deeper level of comprehension of the world? Cars are too fast. Sometimes a kid in the backseat will look up from a phone and say, ‘Oh, we’re here?’ And walking is good, but limits our range. The bike is like Goldilocks. Not too fast. Not too slow. What gives?”
I love this question. As it happens, I took it on in the second column I ever wrote for Bicycle Guide. That said, my view has evolved since then. In 1996, I suggested that it was the right pace at which to appreciate the world. A cyclist has the ability to experience the world and its contours at a rate that allows a picture of an environment to emerge.
I don’t want to say it doesn’t happen when you’re in a car or truck, but the passenger in a vehicle is insulated in a way that doesn’t allow the experience to be as visceral. That said, I know drivers who would argue that pulling half a G in a turn is plenty visceral, but much of what is communicated has to do with the car’s engine, suspension and tires.
And as our question notes, at a walking pace we can’t cover much territory, or, if we do, we cover it at such a slow pace, it’s hard to form a coherent picture.
Cycling—whether we are road cycling, mountain biking or gravel riding—gives us a more immediate and richer experience of a landscape. And yes, the difference between mountain biking and road riding is significant, but I believe that they do the same thing, even though they approach a landscape on a different scale.
You want to know just how flat your surroundings are? Go for a ride. In a car, you can miss 200 feet of elevation change. A hike can skew your perception in the other direction, making you think a driveway ramp is a hill. Want to know a mountain? Ride up it and then ride back down; you’ll remember it in your bones.
I’m going to take a bit of a turn here: What follows is the sort of stuff that I think about when I’m riding. Seriously, it’s nerdy in here with me.
Of the many things I contemplate, one is how trails and roads have in common the fact that they are prepared surfaces. To ride a road—whether gravel or asphalt—or to ride a trail is to ride on land that we have altered to suit our purpose. And one of the things I’ve considered is whether our changing the landscape makes our experience of the land less accurate, less legitimate, less honest. Or, to stick with today’s lexicon: less authentic.
I came down on the side of the positive. I love how a flow trail takes in the contours of the land. Switchbacks, whether paved or dirt, are a measure of the possible.
So why is cycling the right speed? Because it’s the slowest speed that allows us to appreciate the larger contours of geography. Because it’s the fastest speed that allows us to maintain an intimate connection with our landscape.