Lessons Learned While Biking Around Town

Last year, bike lanes began to appear in Milton. These consist of white bicycle stencils spray-painted on the road, with actual lane markers in a few locations. They're getting a lot of use, too; hardly a day goes by when I'm not witness to one of Team Milton's pelotons, in coordinated jerseys and shorts, whizzing by on its way to Boston, or the Cape, or South America.

I watch these zero-emissions athletes go by, and think of the first and only time I rode my bike in town, shortly after I moved here 10 years ago. I learned some valuable lessons that day.

It was sunny and cool, perfect for bike riding. I stepped into my padded shorts, strapped on my helmet, and enthusiastically took off down the hill that leads away from my house. I was carefree until I reached Canton Avenue. There, picturesque homes I'd admired from the car barely even registered as I concentrated on staying upright while not getting run over. 

My ride took me past the entrance to Pierce Middle School (now Milton High) I thought how lovely it would be that someday, if I ever had children, they'd be able to walk to school.

My reverie was interrupted by a school bus barreling up behind me. The noise alone rattled my teeth, and I wobbled a little as the yellow blur left me in the dust.

Lesson #1: If you're nervous about driving in the greater Boston area because of traffic, don't think for a minute that biking will be any easier.

I continued down Canton Avenue, unnerved by the constant flow of minivans, SUVs and the occasional delivery truck passing inches from my elbow. By the time I reached the library, I'd had enough, and decided to head home. Somehow I negotiated the crazy five-way intersection and turned left onto Reedsdale, only to discover another crazy five-way intersection by Milton High (now Pierce.) Which was the way home? 

Lesson #2: If you've just moved to a new town, and don't really know your way around, bring your cell phone whenever you leave the house. When you finally get a GPS unit, bring that, too.

In the end, I pedaled down Brook Road and somehow found my way back to my own neighborhood, where the dastardly hill towered before me, a Kilimanjaro between me and my driveway. 

Lesson #3: If you start out going down a hill, you will have to go back up said hill to get home.

Cursing my too-heavy hybrid bike between gasps for air, I doggedly pedaled up the hill as far as I could. When I reached the point of equilibrium between the strength of my legs pushing me forward and gravity pulling me back, I gave up. Defeated, I toppled off my bike and walked it the rest of the way. I slunk into the garage and hung up my helmet. I was sweaty and exhausted, with the beginnings of a nasty case of post-traumatic stress disorder. My physical and psychological surrender to the difficulties of bike-riding in Milton was complete.

I haven't tackled the roads of Milton on two wheels in 10 years. When I see brave souls in fit bodies confidently racing by, I tip an imaginary helmet to them from the seat-belted safety of my car. Soon I hope we'll have a completed bike trail down near the river, and I look forward to rediscovering the fun of riding in a car-free zone. Until then, my van and I will continue to steer a wide path around the stencils in the road.

See www.bikemilton.org  for more information about biking around town.