I’ve had to do a fair bit of commuting over the last few weeks. This is across town, sometimes to that mystical land of “the North Shore”, with its both beautiful and at times, utterly terrible vibes.
As a consequence of driving almost anywhere I possibly can, I have encountered a group of folks who eBike.
These folks have a kind of confidence that I one day hope to feel. eBikers.
The eBike as a material invention is a pretty great idea. Don’t ask me how they work, but I suspect the more you pedal, the more you get to not-pedal. It reminds of how when I am low on petrol I coast down hills with my foot on the brake rather than on the accelerator, robbing Peter to pay Paul.
Coming home from The North Shore yesterday at 3:30pm was a reminder of how desperate our motorways are. I was completely trapped in a car-centipede. Would an eBike help?
Then, I considered the eBiker personality and took a step back. Would I be an eBiker, or could I be?
eBikers
So like, eBikers will try to cross a very busy road, holding their eBike, without checking the traffic flow. This is because they are listening to Wallace Chapman on Radio New Zealand, and can’t hear anything else. On a subconscious level, they forget about the busy roads because they have chosen a different pathway.
Ladies Mile
I was recently at the corner of Ladies Mile and Remuera Road and I spotted an eBiker preparing for launch at the first sign of a green traffic light. They were angry at the traffic, and I did wonder if going onto Greenlane West towards the motorway was the best choice for them.
I also held their disgruntled visage in wonder. I knew they’d make it to their destination. I tried to get inside their mind, their head. Who were they? Was this about the planet, or something else? Was it just the same transit I sought?
Hot sex
Ultimately I failed, because all I could think about on my commute was getting there, arriving there. A bit like awful sex. Were the eBikers more like Sting with his prolonged and tantric scenarios across different highways?
I figured out that eBikers are actually thinking about Bird of the Year while biking in some of the most terrible traffic in humanity. They can’t hear toots, only bird calls. That’s how they roll.
Toot Toot
“Oh, that’s the Kōtuku.”
Lol it’s an Audi A6.
Tongariro
An eBiker dresses like they are also going to tramp the Tongariro Crossing. When they arrive at work, they will spend 30 mins getting undressed (in the office) and talking about eBiking/traffic for another 30 minutes. And then another hour at the end of the day. That’s a whole two hours about eBiking already.
That’s my commute.
I cannot help thinking that I wouldn’t mind an eBike but here are the requirements:
eBike
Battery of some sort
eBike cohort of eBikers
Hi-vis vest
Long pants
Wallace Chapman podcast
Angry face going along the busiest street in Auckland
Bird of the Year podcast, in ears.