I am fascinated by old technology. Mechanical clocks, for example, working without batteries or electricity to keep time, amaze me. Locks and keys, landline telephones, toilets, and record players also blow my mind. In many cases, these technologies have remained relatively unchanged for decades or centuries. And lately, for reasons that will soon become obvious if they aren’t already, I am particularly charmed by the simple but transformative workings of the bicycle.
My first bike was a royal blue Supercycle from Canadian Tire. Made from steel, it was heavy and sturdy, and had back-pedal brakes. I felt invincible on it. I would tear up and down our quiet street, sometimes with my little sister standing on the crossbar (in patent leather dress shoes, no less), and with my mother’s “be careful!” call reaching for us as we flew past our house. At some point, I got multicoloured spoke beads, which really upped the look (and sound) of my ride.
Somewhere around 11 years old, I upgraded to a dusty brown mountain bike with handle brakes and gears. And in my 30s, I bought a gorgeous black and yellow Kona Dew Plus that I ride to this day. The bike I’m riding in Berlin is lovingly called an Omafiet or “Granny bike.” Like my beloved Supercycle, it has back-pedal brakes, and it’s heavy, practical, and comfortable. I have to sit straight up to ride, and when the traffic light turns from red to green, I need to really push down on the pedals to get moving, but I love it.
Regardless of the style or make of bike, one thing has remained the same: the feeling of riding. As a child, it was a combination of pure joy and radical freedom; my bike opened up the world for me. I could reach places on my own that I couldn’t reach before. The corner store, where I would buy jawbreakers and sour keys, was suddenly much closer, as was the library and my friends’ houses. “Just going for a bike ride!” I’d holler as I left the house.
It’s difficult to talk about Berlin without talking about bicycles. The city is teeming with them. Bike lanes abound, many of them separated from the road, and everywhere you go—cafes, grocery stores, museums—there are bikes locked up out front. Even the mail is delivered via mustard-yellow Deutsche Post bikes. Also, unlike my hometown, Berlin is mercifully flat, which makes running errands or cycling with children much easier. According to the Berlin Senate Department for the Environment, Urban Mobility, Consumer Protection, and Climate Action, “only one in three people in Berlin has a car but almost everyone has a bicycle.”1 In other words, Berlin is a city of cyclists.
To be clear, the transit system here is fantastic, but in many instances, it’s easier to get around by bike. For example, there is no bus to M.’s school, so for the first two weeks of class, we walked 20 minutes each way. Once she got a bike, it became a zippy six-minute journey, which at 7:40 a.m., makes a big difference. (M. and I often comment on how cycling to and from school is our favourite time of day). Like many smaller kids, E. sits in a child’s seat on the back of Jake’s bike, but it’s common to see very small children comfortably riding a two-wheeler with their families. The other child-friendly option is the Lastenfahrrad (cargo bike), which is basically a bike + box combination. (Please see photo, below). The dropping temperatures and light snow haven’t discouraged this way of life either. Cyclists suit up with splash pants and warm hats, and the cargo bikes don rain canopies while children ride inside with blankets and hot water bottles.
And while infrastructure and topography help to encourage cycling, it’s the bike culture that makes all the difference. Drivers and cyclists actually share the road (!!!), which means that I can ride to and fro without feeling threatened. The first time I cycled here, I was nervous about the cars behind me. Do they see me? Will they stop? Will they give me enough space? On the whole, the answers have been yes, yes, and yes. I still remain vigilant on my bike, but I also feel as though there is space for me; I have just as much of a right to be on the road as a car.
My favourite aspect of cycling goes back to those early years on my Supercycle. It’s a joyful, liberating experience, and it’s also a therapeutic one. When the mornings are hard (i.e. when no one wants to get dressed, brush their teeth, or sit for breakfast), and emotions are running high for all the reasons, and we’re trying to get out the door on time (“please, just get your boots on”), the bike ride soothes us. M. arrives at school a bit more relaxed, more clear.
And as I ride home, I imagine the heightened emotions and stress from the morning flaking off me and disintegrating into the air. I pedal harder, the energy from my body mobilizing the bike chain, which turns the wheels, a slight decline pushing me along, the cold air reddening my cheeks and making my eyes water. And then somewhere halfway between school and home, I stop pedalling, and the world goes quiet, and for a moment or two it feels like flying.
Image 1 courtesy of Nathan Wright, via Upsplash
Image 2 courtesy of Sven Brandsma, via Upsplash
Cycling. (n.d.). Berlin. Retrieved November 28, 2022, from
https://www.berlin.de/sen/uvk/en/traffic/transport-planning/cycling/
Many years ago there in an antique store hung on the wall was the most beautiful school clock . A unique black metal key wound the 2 mechanisms on the front of the clock followed by a soft push of the pendant. As the striker hit the chimes everyone knew what time it was. At night we stopped the swinging pendant so we could sleep even though the clock was on the main floor it could be heard throughout the whole house. We came across a clock maker who was able to soften the chimes . He said back in the day of this school clock the rooms were much bigger as to why this clock chimed so loudly. A treasure still to this day keeping track of the time that so quickly goes by.
There is so much to be said for the bicycle….it all began with the invention of the wheel. The Victorian bicycle was not for the faint of heart . Today there are so many choices which bike is for us. Should it have gears and a hand brake or a coaster bike with a back brake. Being fortunate enough to have tried both I finally settled on a coaster bike with a light frame having a left hand brake and a back pedal brake. There is something to be said for the freedom a bike ride provides . There is so much more to see and feel when riding a bike. The nature paths offer a safe flat journey for us all to get our bikes out and enjoy.
Oh, I love this!
This reminds me of a few years ago I visited a dear friend in a small town west of Berlin. While I was there, she got a handwritten invite to a birthday party. The plan was to meet at the house by bike (she lives in her neighbourhood) with 10 other ladies (all over 80 years old) and bicycle to a coffee house in another town 35 minutes away. So much fun riding through fields and paths.
There are things you will miss…