The Lie that Is Biking.

Biking is really overrated. All those people who act like they're having so much fun on their bikes--it's all a big act to make the rest of us feel terrible.

Like veganism, public transportation, nonfat milk, soy milk and other charades that try to make virtue seem like fun. All lies.

The Puritans were right: virtue's no fun. If it were fun, everyone would be doing it. A cheeseburger is fun. A decaf soy latte is virtuous. You know the difference, and if you say you don't, you're lying.

But no one wants to be virtuous in private. It's like wealth: it's not enough to have it, everyone has to know you have it.

Oddly, the Puritans felt the opposite about virtue and money--people should see that you're virtuous but not that you're rich, whereas we want people to see everything about us.

Hence reality TV: no virtue, lots of fun, prize money. It doesn't get any better. The cooking shows even include food.

But about biking.

I bought a bike a couple of weeks ago. Not a great one: a good helmet and decent lock cost more than the bike (after a couple of extras were thrown in).

Okay, it's true, I haven't biked in years--twenty or so, to be exact.

And the old saw is not true: you don't entirely remember how.

Oh I can pedal and steer. And balance--more or less.

But starting is a slow enterprise. It's crank, crank, crank until I wobblily get up to speed. (My steering seems poor while I'm expending that much effort pedaling.)

And stopping is shaky at best. I seem to remember speeding up to my destination, standing up, swinging one leg over, and coming to stop standing on one pedal.

Now I brake and brake and brake, ever so gently, and I steer towards a curb where I can prop myself more easily on one leg.

The seat was higher when I bought the bike--the kid that sold it to me was about eight miles tall--but I adjusted it lower, to the supposedly proper height--that where one's leg is still slightly bent when fully extended.

It's a bust. It's much less fun that way. I feel trapped on the seat, oddly crouched.

Part of the problem is: I can't stand up. On the bicycle I mean. If I stand to pedal, the steering goes haywire. I'm all over the road. Oh I can stand on one leg, but I can't shift the weight to the other in order to pedal.

Maybe I need the steering adjusted--stiffer, less play. More money out of pocket. Are we having fun yet?

My lack of ability to stand, pedal and steer at once makes hills a pretty sad affair. I'm seated the whole time, just burning my thighs to a crisp trying to keep up a decent speed.

Truth is: it's really inertia that's the whole fun of biking, not pedaling. Once you're a decent speed, you tend to stay at that speed. Whoosh! It feels great. So going down hills is fun. And once you're at a good clip, that's fun. It's all the rest--getting there, getting up hill, starting and stopping--that's a chore.

Which means that the best part of biking is actually laziness. Take that, exercise aficionados!

Plus, the roads and drivers are just not at all bicycle-friendly. They pay no attention to bikes. You might as well be a fly, ready to become splatter on their windshield.

(I should know this from being a driver. I never remember seeing a bicycle rider. Ever. Except those few that turned up bloody on my bumper. Annoying.)

They turn rightward into your lane. They turn left when you're going straight--cutting you off. It's like the goal is to hit you. Now I know how the pinball feels.

Today on my 9.8 mile bike ride--oh the tedium of it--one joker 'got out of my line' but moving about six inches and passing me at 50 mph. Thanks for not killing me, pal!

The maps steer you to two-lane roads where you can at least occupy one lane and make everyone go around you. Oh that's fun--being loved like a double-parker.

It comes to the point where you cry with joy to see a dedicated bike lane.

I ended up getting off the main drags to find a nice deserted road. I saw four other bikers, as one might well expect. But at one point I turned onto a road with leftover railroad tracks: I nearly got derailed myself.

How much further need I go in this charade? I like running for exercise. I thought biking would be more 'efficient'--I'd go further, see more, maybe work in some errands. But it's all such a chore.

The truth is: I'm just not actually a really good person.

I think I'll have a cheeseburger.

--E. R. O'Neill