Whether it is the most efficient machine known to man or not, it still is better than the most efficient fuel-powered vehicle even without considering the health, environmental, economic benefits (you did buy that Prius for the benefit of the environment and not your wallet, right?). And at a point in time where most people can’t work on their cars as they have become too complex (we also have little time or inclination to do so), it is amazing to be able to completely understand a vehicle from front to back. If something breaks, wears out, or doesn’t perform up to a desired level- you can address it personally. It’s liberating. It’s fulfilling. It’s ownership.

Millions of people around the world use bicycles for recreation, transportation, competition, and exercise. There is little doubt of our interest in this device that has changed incredibly little in its century of existence. Despite the evolution of the specific component gadgetry, material composition, and tweaks of frame geometry, the same basic form that came together in the 1890s remains what we ride and see on the mountains, paths, and roadways today. There are variations and nicknames as there are within any culture or for any specific purpose- mountain, all-terrain, hybrid, comfort, downhill, cross country, hardtail, 29er, trial, road, touring, fixie, track, cyclocross, bmx, freestyle, race, recumbent, beach cruiser. The spirit is the same- balance, pedal, fly.

I got back on the saddle one night in Brooklyn. It was a going away party for a college friend and three or four of us excused ourselves from the festivities to take turns riding in circles around each other in an enclosed schoolyard.

An overwhelming sensation came over me. It was a combination of the company, the afterhours schoolyard nostalgia, and the pure ecstasy of gyroscopic balance and inertia. Prior to that evening I hadn’t been on a bicycle in countless years. From that point on riding was almost constant.

Maggie and I bought hybrids- entry-level, cheap, heavy, comfy. We took them on trails and to parks. We rode them through the Carriage Roads in Acadia National Park. We rode them around Mystic on our first anniversary. We took them to the market, and events on the town green.

Friends would ask us if we wanted a ride. I know that they are being nice and I’m sure there will be a time when I do want a ride. But people can’t understand that I want to be on the bike, even in the rain.

I found an old Torpado in the basement of the Knickerbocker, found a wrench and then the road. I upgraded in steps mostly through velo-swaps, ebay, tag sales, and craigslist. We moved north where there are more hills and I learned about gear ratios and triple cranks. I upgraded to Tomasso and then a crazy-light Specialized. I have three bikes for different purposes and want more still. I hate being in cars and worse yet, on highways in the Northeast. I joined a diverse community of cyclists that make me stronger. I commute when I can for work, errands, and recreation.

I love the time in the garage as much as I love the time on the road. I love the journey as much as the destination. I love the feeling of accomplishment (and all the beer and food I can take in with lesser consequence after each ride). I may never be sponsored or ride competitively, but that isn’t really the point. I ride.

Bikes aren’t children’s toys. What people don’t get is that I choose to be on a bike- I don’t have to be. I look forward to more people realizing this as I look forward to their companionship as riding partners. Ride more.

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Instead of marching out and buying more stuff, we opted to make bins out of free pallets and a few fasteners. We have yet to add anything to the bins, but promise to let you know how it goes.

There are plans for compost bins all over the internet and in just about every book on gardening, so I know that I am not breaking any ground here. These are however my bins, and I am wicked psyched.

Materials:

• 3 to 7 wood pallets (3 will make one bin, 5 will make two bins, and 7 will make a three bin composter)
• Fasteners- L brackets and straight brackets
• 36 inch hardware cloth (not really a cloth at all, but a plastic or metal mesh- like fine chicken wire)
• Wood screws
• Staples

Step One: Pick a spot

Easy enough for year-round access. Far enough so the smell doesn’t bother you.

Step Two: Scavenge pallets

Friends with trucks are helpful here. You’d be surprised how many people are willing to give pallets away. They also make good bonfire wood.

Step Three: Level the ground

Don’t go crazy. Make sure there are no weeds.

Step Four: Wear a tool belt

Step Five: Drink a beer

Step Six: Put it together

Stand one on end (nice side facing out) and butt another one up against it.

Make sure it’s level and fasten.

Repeat.

Step Seven: Protect it/ Hide it

We live in a community with an association so structures have to match the house and since we had red deck stain in the garage already, we went with that. Hope no one complains. I don’t think this step is really necessary, but I like that it matches the deck and the stone of the raised bed.

Step Eight: Avoid Zombie Attacks

Step Nine: Staple in the hardware cloth

This will keep all your materials in the bin and let air get to all sides of it.

Step Ten: Fill it

Like I said before, we have yet to do that. I need to read more. We’ll get back to you on that.

Have another beer.

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Was I being some kind of a dick? No. I just didn’t know any better. I am a reasonably smart individual. I care about the earth and expect humans to treat it well. My point is- it’s easy to do terrible things without even knowing that you’re doing them.

Here are some practices that I have either started to implement or am in the process of implementing. They are relatively simple things that make a huge difference.

Growing food. Our ancestors did it. Lack of space is not an excuse- we all have windows or a balcony if nothing else. Talk to local farmers; ask them questions. Learn what grows when and how. Keep it as organic as possible.

Weeding by hand. Remember that it’s not just what we put in the ground around the garden that ends up in the food, but everything we put everywhere- on earth (there are PCBs in penguins in the Antarctic- thanks Monsanto).

Putting it back- compost. I have yet to put this into practice, but I’m learning because it makes so much sense. We put all of this energy into what we eat, why not use it all- the whole animal as it were. Everything has to eat- even our food.

Avoiding packaged products whenever possible. I love snacks, so I will never stop entirely, but it’s easy to see the problem here.

Buying food (and other things) from local farms. Keep the money in the community. Also, food from here doesn’t have to be shipped here. And you can see where and how it grows.

Eating seasonally or canning it for the cold months. When I first got an apartment and started grocery shopping for myself I was a bit embarrassed to ask the produce people for certain fruits or vegetables because I didn’t know if they were in season or not. I had no idea what grew where and when. I realize that I am not alone, in part because at the local “super”markets we can now get just about anything, just about any time. I am only starting to learn about local agriculture now and we are trying canning and freezing for the first time this year (tips and advice is greatly appreciated).

Sharing the knowledge without judgment. I’m also working on this one. Once I find a method that works for me, I assume everyone should do it that way. This isn’t fair, practical or even logical.  For us to improve our practices we have to learn from each other. We have to be open, honest, and fair.

Even though a lot has changed for me in the past year, I have to remember that there are some things I do that would appear crazy to other people, and those ignorant things I did were not that long ago. One thing I know for certain is that I will do dumb things again. Count on it. But also count on me learning and changing my practices with studied and reasoned plans. That is all anyone can ask of me really, and all I ask of everyone else. Isn’t that fair?

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de-cy-cle (dē-sī’kəl): tr.v. -cled, -cling, -cles. 1. to take stuff that you have out of circulation. 2. to stop putting things into circulation.

Stop buying shit.

We need things- no argument. We love to buy things, guilty. But we don’t need many of the things we love buying (also consider that we don’t need many of the things we hate buying).

Try to spend just one day consciously assessing everything you take in and put out – really think as far down the lines as you can about what it took to reach you and what it will take to get away from you.

Now I love Annie Leonard’s “Story of Stuff” (if you haven’t seen it, watch it), and I love the classic George Carlin bit about the absurdities of our behavior with our stuff (that’s two Carlin references for two articles), but most people can’t find a way to practice all of the things they know they should. Life gets in the way, but more importantly the enormity of the task is overwhelming.

Again- I by no means have the answer, but I’m trying. Every little bit helps, but remember, you don’t have to do everything at once (or even everything for that matter). It’s about changing practices that don’t make sense for ones that do. Nothing else.

• Grow food
• Cook and take lunch
• Bike (to work, to the store, to the bar)
• Share (crops, appliances, stories)
• Learn constantly
• Buy locally
• Use craigslist
• Repurpose
• Deycle

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Although I at times preach, pontificate, and place judgment- I try not to. I don’t claim to have the answers on how to live correctly, or even well (at least in clear-headed, rational moments). I realize that each person cultivates his or her own cultural values, and more over, has a fundamental right to do so. But doesn’t our choice of activities reflect our values? And shouldn’t therefore we be held responsible if not accountable for that choice. It’s right conduct. We are judged by our actions- if by no one else but ourselves.

Now, if we consider that every action has an equal reaction, then we must also admit that to some degree every action is worth analyzing as its effect is equal in significance to someone or something. This line of thinking can at best lead to better practices, and at worst, be crippling.

Consider environmentalism and the push to be “green” (a horrid overuse of what was once a great word, color, and concept). We should all be stewards of the very thing that allows us to exist- so I won’t go far in preaching here. The push toward environmentalism is important, but unfortunately- difficult. Somehow we have lost our best practices for convenient ones. Perhaps in the name of capitalism, perhaps, productivity- perhaps they are too intertwined to separate. Either way, most people can agree that our current practices need to change; we can see that in action at the gas pump, or in the grocery store.

Some people get stuck when they either realize that they alone can’t make a big enough change, they know academically what they should do but can’t act on it, or they realize how much they would have to do to not have as much of a negative impact. We can’t make all these changes at once, but the good news is- we don’t have to.
If we really tried to have no negative impact on the world, we wouldn’t have any positive impact on it either. We do what we can do. We make small changes in our practices, and when they become the normal mode of operation, they are no longer a burden.

I started thinking about this some time ago when I considered the economic and environmental costs of golf. I know George Carlin famously went through this, but I’ll reiterate. It is an annoying, elitist, and arrogant game. It uses too much land and more importantly is a pointless activity that costs money we as Americans don’t have.

Are we so well off as a people that we can spend billions of dollars annually to wander around a chemically manicured environment for countless hours?

Again, hobbies and pastimes are important. People shouldn’t feel that they have to bear the weight of all others. They are allowed and deserve activities that bring them pleasure in their free time. But we should seek activities that fit our beliefs and ideals.

This is my last season as Boys golf coach, in part because I plan to start another degree, but also because I have grown to truly dislike the sport in a lot of ways. There are things I love about it- the walks with friends, the often beautiful landscape and occasional beautiful shot, the feeling of a good swing, the sound of a well-struck ball, the peace one can feel when they relax and let go. It can be meditative, reflective.

But often it’s not. Courses in the Northeast are jammed with carts the same way our interstates are jammed with cars. I can see the waste of resources like water, the overuse of chemicals, the bombardment of snake-oil sales pitches and miracle swing fixes, the elitism, the cost on an individual for equipment, lessons, clothing, and greens fees.

It isn’t a natural interaction with the world. We walk in circles on manmade manicured, chemical soaked fairways crammed between groups of Type A’s trying to relax.

A good walk spoiled? To say the least. And that is why it’s time to move to pastimes that are more utilitarian, that serve both pleasure and function, that fit with my values, and that mirror me as an individual.

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