I had seen them. By work. By the theater. Near the Thursday Farmer’s Market. And then, one showed up at the end of my
block.
Minus one disastrous biking trip while I was living away
from home, I have always enjoyed
biking. So I was very intrigued by
these kiosks of neon green bikes that seemed to be literally everywhere in downtown Minneapolis (and now showing up somewhat randomly in St. Paul). Why were they there? Who was using them? What were they all about?
My sister was a fan, which was a good sign because she is
often my canary. She tries something,
she likes it, then I try it, and I
almost always like it. This hasn’t been
true our entire lives, but as adults it’s a reliable formula.
I had two irrational fears about using the
green bikes. First, the checking out and
returning process would be too untimely and awkward; second, only “real bikers” or tourists were using these
bikes not someone like me: a "barely biker" and lifer twin-citian.
My sister reassured me these two fears were easily
overcome. First time renting with the credit
card might be challenging but, she reassured me, it only takes once. Then she told me to start looking closely at the green bikers and I would see
that every kind of person was riding the bikes, a lot of them while wearing their
suits. So I did begin to watch.
Though I did still feel some fear, finally on an annoying day at work something in me
clicked. As if I was led by something
else, I was out of my chair, changing my shoes, and heading out the door. I
walked over to the nearest kiosk and stood for a bit. I read through the
directions about 3,000 times. I slowly
slid my credit card in the kiosk, clicked “yes” to the safety agreement on the small but very legible kiosk screen, and
out shot the code to unlock one of the bikes of my choosing. I walked over to one that looked friendly,
punched in the code, and the bike was released and in my possession. I quickly attached my bag to the front
basket/bungee contraption, and then before it blew up or something, I hopped on
and started riding.
It was about two blocks before I realized what was going
on. “Hey! I am on a bike! This is working!” The bikes are designed for short rides,
so I made my way to a nearby city park, looked around for a bit, and headed
back. My heart was pounding the whole time not only due to the invigorating
activity, but also because I was worried about how to check the bike back in.
I circled back, lined up the bike with an open slot on the
kiosk, purposefully shoved it in, and ding!
The tiny green light came on. I had just had my first successful Nice
Ride.
Since then, I bought a membership which includes a fancy fob
that can be inserted in right by the bike, circumventing the credit card
process. And, I’ve downloaded an app
which shows me where the nearest kiosk is and how many bikes and empty slots are
available. It also times my rides and warns me when I am approaching the 30 minute mark (at which point I must find a kiosk to renew or be charged a few additional dollars).
The bikes have expanded my week day and my way of getting
around. I take the bikes to any meeting
I have downtown – whether it’s four or fourteen blocks away. I have found new lunch locations, and new
small little parks. Perhaps best of
all, I have broken out of the office,
been out in the fresh air, and been active.
It is not my exercise program, but it is certainly shifting my reality; I’m loving moving
my body and getting around in a whole new way that is both enjoyable and
exceedingly practical.
One day, I discovered a perfect new lunch spot adjacent to a green bike kiosk I hadn't yet visited. I was
giddy because it was such a new habit, this getting out on a bike for a bit
over lunch. I ordered my delicious
lunch, and was sitting, reveling in the delight of the moment. “Ahh,” I thought. “If I only had my book!”
I
looked at my iphone.
I had a vague recollection of Matt downloading a Kindle app
for me. I swished to it, and gave a
tentative tap. A list of books popped
up, and mine was on top. “Cool,” I thought. “but it
will take forever for me to find my page.” I tapped the title and the first page of the book came
up. Then, magically, a dialogue box
opened. It said, “You left off on page XX on the Kindle device named Matt
Brenengen. Would you like to sync to
this page now?”
What!?!
I clicked yes. And
there I was. Right where I left off the
night before!
There are times when a sort of velcro addiction to technology wears me down and puts me on edge. But at this moment, I felt like an empty pitcher of me was filling, filling, filling.
I was at a new-to-me café.
Reading a good book.
A block away from my bike.
A bikeride away from my work.
Eating a tasty lunch.
And it was a whole new world.
