Biking for Dummies

I have made the greatest personal discovery since I found out anal isn’t all it’s made out to be. Though, in hind sight, it’s probably better to be giving . . .

But my point stands, and being the observant bloody fucking geniuses that you all are, I’m sure all of you already know what I’m about to say.




Personally, I connect biking with my with my youth, and in many ways I’ve been like a little kid again this summer. For example:

Despite my body’s complete and utter inability to process dairy, I bought a fucking ice cream cone the other day, and like a pre-teen with no self control I kept scarfing that creamy motherfucker regardless of the brain freeze. I’ve been told my semen does the same thing to women. Either that or it’s the instant regret they feel for taking a load in the mouth.

I frolicked about in nature the other day, and I only whined like a dozen times as the mosquitoes feasted on my high-born German blood. They left the Ukrainian blood alone. Bastards.

The other morning I stopped and talked to a girl and treated her like we were both in kindergarten. I pushed her in the mud, told her she had cooties and peed on her.

Well, regrettably, I am writing this post from prison. Apparently, my childish youthful enthusiasm is just too much for some people. And I mean what are the odds that this chick didn’t like getting peed on? That’s like everyone’s kink. Ugh!

Biking has gotten me back outdoors and into my community, doing things that I quite honestly haven't done in years. And let me tell you what - It's been LIFE CHANGING.

After my divorce a few years back, I moved from the suburbs to the downtown core, fulfilling a lifetime dream of being in the hustle and bustle and immersing myself in a major Canadian city. You see, living in the burbs is kind of lonely for a single fella. You’re typically surrounded by depressing couples with kids or old couples that remark on the weather so regularly that I often wondered whether they were just fucking with me.

Like my old neighbour, Wally. Our conversations would often have me saying things like:

“Oh, good morning, Wally . . . It is nice out, mmmhmm . . . Yes, of course the sun is in the sky today . . . I’m sure you’re right, it’s gotta be at least +30C today, gotta be . . . Yeeeeees Wally, of course I know the sun’s core burns at 15 million degrees Celcius. I mean, who doesn’t know that? . . . Okay, c’mon now, we just had this conversation yesterday! Of course I know that giant ball of flame is powered by the prayers and tears of children. Why do you think I pushed little Mikey off his bike the other day? Let us both take a moment to bow to the Sun God, Rah!"

Depicted here: The Pope himself or Wally my neighbour. I am unsure . . . all old people look the same.

Depicted here: The Pope himself or Wally my neighbour. I am unsure . . . all old people look the same.

So back to the point: My move to the downtown core and away from the suburbs made it incredibly impractical to drive everywhere with my truck. So what did I do?

Well I’m incredibly proud to say I drove around with my truck for almost two full years, often travelling as far as a quarter mile to pick up a fucking sandwich, the gas alone often costing me just as much as the fucking ham and cheese monstrosity I was putting into my arteries. I still put those sandwiches into this god-like form, but I’ve changed my ways, people. I’ve rediscovered the best times of my youth.

Yes you saw right - the bike says "AtTitUdE!" but kind of tricks the eyes to make you think the bike actually says "Altitude", which this bike certainly is NOT capable of.

Yes you saw right - the bike says "AtTitUdE!" but kind of tricks the eyes to make you think the bike actually says "Altitude", which this bike certainly is NOT capable of.

I’m a month in, and that piece of shit, that will henceforth be called the "Green Stallion", has over 350km on it already.

350 HARD kilometers, mind you. Being relatively new to the thrill and a registered, bonafide idiot, I ripped around my city’s river valley with a half-flat tire for two weeks before I noticed, and the gear shift is pretty much busted on it. The first two gear sets rattle into place eventually, but the third set never seems to catch, so when I pick up speed and try to pedal faster I reach a maximum speed of like maybe 15km/h. It's been a grind getting around on this thing.

To sum it up, The Green Stallion is a genuine dumpster fire of a bike. I’ve seen countless homeless people with nicer bikes than me. But, to be fair, I often look more homeless than they do.

So, being kind of a newbie at this, I’m not going to pretend to be an expert here (not that any of your were fooled). Maybe in time I can chastise all of you for being lazy sacks of shit and driving everywhere, but I’m currently in no place to judge. But what I will do is tell you why I highly recommend making a one-time purchase of a bike, because it could change your life for the better.


Here’s why you need a bike:

1) The Exercise

I can now bike five kilometers to the bar, get fucked up and legitimately feel good about it. For one, I’m burning booze and pizza calories just by getting there differently. Even better is I can get loser-pissed, bike home and not put anyone else on the road in danger. My 2 or 3 beer and drive days are OVER, all thanks to this miraculous invention . . . that has been around for centuries. Fucking innovative, aren’t I?

2) The Sights

This is actually my favorite biking revelation. When you drive everywhere, you’re so focused on not killing someone else with your ¾ ton pick-up that you don’t take in the sights and sounds of the world around you. On a bike, you can take shortcuts down scary back alleys, cut through parks and take in the birds, greenery and the dude getting a handy behind the gooseberry bush.

And best of all? The people! You get to see all the gorgeous people roaming the streets, out for their daily jog or walk in spandex booty shorts and sports bras that literally hide nothing from the imagination. I finally understand why people go this place called “outside”. It’s fucking glorious in the summertime.

And let’s not kid ourselves ladies . . . there’s plenty of eye candy for you out there too.

3) The Speed

I thought this would be the biggest detriment to biking over driving, because time is money, baby, and it’s the only thing we can never get back.

But when you live in your city’s core, it’s actually pretty much the damn same. My usual fifteen minute drive to my local soccer centre took me a whopping seventeen minutes just the other day and as I weaved down the sidewalk, back alleys and streets, I had the infinite pleasure of seeing a dude stick a needle in his arm and a bunch of teens rapping racist lyrics in unison. In my car I would have assumed they were just out having a pleasant and totally innocent walk. Now I know to avoid young people like they're the plague.

Moreover, parking is easy, completely free, and you'll never get pulled over for "blowing a red light" or "soliciting for sex". Cops overlook these trivial offences when you're on a bike. Just make sure you have pegs installed on your bike's back tire so your lady of the night has somewhere to hop on. PRO TIPS!

4) The Money Saving

Another obvious one, but let’s just do a quick calculation of this month’s savings for shits and giggles:

My Sex Machine, AKA 2010 Toyota Camry ->  350km @ 9.5L/100km = 33.25L x $1.03/L = $34.24

Nothing jaw-dropping, but if I calculate that over the course of six months in which I can actually cycle in this god-forsaken country, I'll have an annual savings of $205.50.

Once again, not jaw-dropping, but everything counts when you’re looking to save. Also, keep in mind, you’re saving on frequency of oil changes, lessening the wear and tear on your tires and vehicle, and lowering the chance that you’ll spill hot coffee on your dick or vagina and ruin your sex life forever.

What’s your dick or vagina worth to you, chump? Huh?!

5) The Youthful Memories

Before there were douchebag helicopter parents and invisible rapists on every corner looking to gobble up children and spit them out like chewing tobacco, kids used to bike everywhere and parents used to let them.

I was one of those kids that was essentially on his bike from 4:00PM to 9:00PM almost every day, tearing across town creating mischief and doing wheelies into old people. We knew our city so well, because we’d been in every nook and every cranny on our bikes, and it gave me a sense of community and safety at a very young age.

Mind you, I never grew up in a big city, but even today I feel the same way when I bike around. I’ve started to recognize familiar faces and it’s nice getting that first smile or wave from a stranger. I’ve even become accustomed to the same few pairs of jiggling boobies (both young and old), and I must say it’s a mighty fine thing. They wave less than their owners, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that boobies are fickle fucking things.

In my travels, my sense of community grows as I know which new restaurants are opening and which old ones are closing. I feel a comradery with my fellow bikers and Edmontonians at large, and I understand why motor vehicles hate bike lanes, even though I use them anyway. I’ve started to recognize the homes that I pass, and I can watch how people manicure their properties and take great care of their lawns and beautiful gardens.

I never used to give a shit about this stuff, but now I see why some people do.

Though, it certainly doesn’t mean I’m going to start giving a shit about my stuff. But, like, it’s cool that all of you other people do so that I can enjoy looking at it (boobies included).

So get a bike you fucking loser!

Er, wait, sorry. That was really aggressive. Let’s try that again . . .

You stupid kent, get a bike.

How much more persuading do you need?!

You’ll be healthier, richer, faster, the hidden bike boners will be masked by your legs in motion, and you’ll see a lot of really cool shit along the way. The Green Stallion was the best purchase I’ve made this year, and I recommend all of you to get off your ass, buy a bike, and then immediately sit your ass down again and go for a ride. Preferably on a shitty bike that you swindled from some old lady in a Walmart parking lot.

I'm not kidding. I bought the Green Stallion from an 80 year old woman in a Walmart parking lot for $70. Which means she was like 60 when she bought the bike...which means I have an old woman's bike that she bought 20 years ago AS AN OLD WOMAN. 

I'm not kidding. I bought the Green Stallion from an 80 year old woman in a Walmart parking lot for $70. Which means she was like 60 when she bought the bike...which means I have an old woman's bike that she bought 20 years ago AS AN OLD WOMAN. 

Looking for other ways to stay in shape and save a few more bucks by NOT going to the gym? Check out my post on DDP Yoga!