Bike musings

Our Minnesota fall was an excellent one for bike commuting.  The weather was perfect- the only problem was the darkness that encrouched on both ends of my ride by mid-October.  Luckily my trusty old Dutch commuter bike comes with a generator, so I always have a headlight- no worries about leaving anything on and batteries dying during the day.  The problem with the generator is that it makes peddaling even harder.  And it comes with a soundtrack of this busy buzzing noise.  If I'm on the flats or going downhill, the buzzing is highpitched, fast and furious.  It makes me feel like I am really whizzing through the night.  But any uphill segment of my commute comes with a corresponding slowing of the buzz and a dimming of the light.  At one point in my trudge up Pelham I come to near silence, as well as only the dimmest shadow of a light.  It is quite discouraging.  It is an all too honest indicator of my effort level.  I've found myself amused to think about how we would react if our entire lives had such a buzzing in the background.  Anytime things are going well, are easy, we had this whizzing sound in the back of our heads.  But as things slowed down, got bogged, were difficult, the whizzing got lower and slower, a visceral signal of our increased effort.  I don't know if it would change how we lived our lives.  I do know, however, that about 3/4 of the way up the Pelham hill, when my generator is nearly strangling, hardly making a peep or giving off a flicker of light, I do regroup and double my efforts.  It usually means standing up on my pedals and really kicking it into gear.  But by the time I reach the top, the buzz is geared right up and my way is once again brightly illuminated.