After recently commemorating four years riding a bicycle every day, and before that spending 15 years being car-free, I know there are lots of big moments in my journey. But it’s the small pleasures of bicycling that satisfy, sustain, and sometimes surprise me. Thanksgiving is a time when gratitude gets more attention, but any time is a good time to be grateful.

As for those big moments, the biggest impression was the epic trip by plane, train, bus, car, hitchhiking, hiking, and riding rented bicycles I took in the Dakotas, Montana, and Wyoming (plus a splash of Minnesota, Colorado, and Canada). There were the 202 miles in two days I rode for the MS150 from Houston to Austin, raising over $12,000 total for that and five other charity rides. The many training trips in the beautiful Hill Country and other parts in and around of Austin (here’s my favorite essay about one for AIDS). Helping get City of Austin mobility bonds passed in 2016 that are still funding the installation of safer bike lanes, sidewalks, and intersections to this day. Being named volunteer of the year for a bike group. Hitting 50 miles an hour downhill at the race track east of town. Doing my annual long bike ride; this year was the eighth in a row. As for small, simple things, here’s a little list.

Leaning into the curve. This is my favorite thing about actual riding. There are some streets that have several curves. As I wind back and forth, my body sways with the bike; man and machine are as one. That sense of moving in the direction of falling but not is almost indescribably delicious. You don’t have to know the physics of it to have fun, especially if you go fast. It’s a small thing that for whatever reason makes me smile inside.

Rode Hard and Put Away Wet. This is a phrase that harkens back to the Old West when cowboys would ride their horses to a point of overexertion and then put them in the barn without grooming them. Maybe they didn’t know better. I mean it in a postive sense: working up a sweat after a challenging bike ride is a good feeling. Sure, you can get a sense of accomplishment from most sports. But the metaphor applies here more, except it’s the rider sweating. And nobody is brushing us down. Anyway, you get it.

Standing Up in the Saddle. Pro racers do this in the mountains for miles at a time. For most urban or recreational riders, it isn’t really necessary. You actually save more energy staying seated. But sometimes on a big hill when your power output isn’t enough, standing up is necessary. It gives you more leverage. Also, it looks cool. I certainly can’t do it for long but when I do I feel like a real bike rider, if only for a sjort time.

Beating Buses. This has happened a few times, often by accident. But on several occasions I’ve consciously chosen to try to bike faster than the bus for certain distances. When I win and look over to grin at the driver, that’s a special feeling. Try it! But don’t be an idiot about it if there’s cars coming behnd you. Duh. Or you could do like these women in the photo, ride a bike on a bus to work. Those cwazy Canadians!

Downhill. You might think this would be everyone’s favorite, but it can be pretty scary. If you’re a fat cyclist aka fathlete like me (I prefer zaftig, Rubenesque, or undertall), a fall at high speeds could be pretty uncomfortable. Road rash for sure but bruises or breaking bones are possibilities. But when you manage to keep the rubber side down, it’s a fine feeling of freedom. So goose those brakes and watch carefully for obstructions.

Ringing the Bell. I like to ring my bell to acknowledge riders going the other way. Sometimes I’ll get a verbal “Hey” or a nod of the head back in return when they don’t have a bell. When they do, it’s music to my ears. It’s as if we’re both saying to each other, “I see you. Good job. Keep going. Be safe.” How cool is that? And it’s free (after getting a bell). Car drivers may wave or raise a finger or two (that’s more of a country greeting). But a bike bell bonging is the sweet sound of solidarity. Not a ringer? Try it, you’ll like it.

Stopping to Pet Dogs and Cats. Often the prey drive of a dog kicks in when they see something in motion, and they want to chase, kill, and eat it. This is natural and not their fault. Oftentimes, I try to calm the dog by getting off my bike, taking off the helmet, sunglasses and hat. That teaches them and their owner that we are not a threat and we’re also not on the dinner menu. Use your best judgement and ask permission to pet them (from below, after a sniff, back of hand out). I sometimes say hi to cats, too, if they deign to come out for a meet and greet. Blinking at both cats and dogs signals you’re not aggressive.

The Click. I wrote a whole post about the sounds of cycling. Of those, clipping in my shoes into the pedals has to be the most satisfying. I’m not sure why, but it’s a signal to my brain and body that we’re about to have fun. Time spent on a bike is usually the best part of my day. No texts, emails, calls. No work, although it is a workout. Just me, the bike, and the road. (And all the people in cars trying to kill me.) The click means it’s go-time.

And that’s my cue that it’s time for this Dude to go. I already biked today, though. Thanks for reading!

What are some simple, small pleasures of bicycling for which you are grateful?

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