On Ode to Guinevere

I love biking. I love my bike. I love them both so much, that I even named my bike: Guinevere. Silly, yes, but after my last bike was stolen I was trying to find a way to connect with her. Naming her seemed like a good idea. And a delicate white bike with pink curlicues can hardly be called Bertha, can she?
I'm reading a book now called Pedaling Revolution: How Cyclists are Changing American Cities, by Jeff Mapes.

So far, I kinda love it. I've only read the first 20 pages are so, and it's already spoken about how cycling defeats many of North American society's ills. Cycling battles obesity and its associated ills (diabetes, heart disease, etc.); reduces traffic; decreases pollution and traffic; and even turns an everyday commute into a mood-boosting endorphin high.

So, why don't more people do it?

If I look at my very own (admittedly non-American) city, I can see many, many reasons.

People don't think cycling is safe. People think it's too expensive. People think their destination is too far, that they're too out of shape, that cycling is for athletes or couriers, that it's just not worth it.

Or maybe they just used to. With the price of gas ever-increasing (no, I mean the price at the pump, not the cost of two oil-based wars), cycling for short trips is becoming more and more viable. With more people biking, the roads get safer. And the more people bike, the safer they become as cyclists. And people who try cycling quickly realize that they don't have to ride any faster than they want to. And they learn that cycling is awesome.

Picture this: I leave my apartment at 8:15. I get on a bus at 8:20, and put in my token, which is now worth $2.50 per ride. I get a transfer, get off at the next major intersection, wait for the next bus and get on at 8:30. If I can get a seat, I can read on the bus. If not, I get bumped by backpacks the whole way there. I get off the bus at 8:50 or so and walk the few blocks to my office, just in time for work.

Or picture this: I leave my apartment at 8:15. I go down to the parking garage and pull out onto the street about 8:20. I drive up to the next major intersection at about 8:25 and hang a left. Then I sit in traffic, fume, swear, mumble and arrive a few blocks from work at about 8:40. I pull into the parking garage there and walk out a couple minutes later. I walk to work, and get there at about 8:50. For this experience, I would pay for the car, the gas, the insurance, and for parking at work, and depending on where I live I might pay for parking at home too.

But then again picture this: when I dress in the morning, I put on my bike clothes, which are the same clothes I'll wear to the gym later that day. I carry my bike downstairs and leave at about 8:30. I feel the air on my skin, get to coast and spin my pedals, and by the time I get to work, I'm wide awake and ready for the day. It's a six and a half kilometre ride to work, and yes, I ride pretty durn fast. So I'll get to my building, and stash my bike in the office bike parking spot (an empty office we use for storage) by about 8:50 or 8:55. I change clothes and am at my desk by 9:00. For this I had to buy my bike—you've been introduced, her name is Guinevere--fix a flat every now and then, and get a tune up 2 or 3 times a year.

Tell me, really, which is the better picture?