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August 26, 2009

It's The Point

This so-called urban riding IS functional AND purposeful. I'm certain that I could complete a "century" ride if you give me enough Gatorade. I'm not saying it would be fun, but I can ride a bike to get where I need to go if I had to. But can you hop onto a picnic table without a ramp?

I mean, say you're out in Harrisburg on a Thursday night, taking the family to Neato Burrito, when suddenly you hear a sweet little old lady cry out "merciful heavens, my purse!" You see the criminal sprinting down an alley well ahead of you, and so you grab the nearest bike and take off. You're in hot pursuit, gaining on him, when suddenly he turns down a sidewalk under construction. He leaps down into a hole over a segment of the sidewalk and jumps off a big pipe up onto the other side. He slows up and begins thumbing through his earnings. That's when you pull out something like this:

You jump your bike down off the wall, pummeling the unsuspecting criminal from his right. Upon returning her purse amidst flashing police car lights, the little old lady proudly awards you $5.

Or, say you're out in the front yard playing toss with your baby daughter, when a policeman whips into the driveway. You're being falsely accused of a crime you didn't commit. So your grab the closest thing, your bike, to make a quick getaway until justice can prevail.

You fly through the grass past your neighbors cookout in their backyard, nearly plowing over aunt Ellie carrying a plate loaded with sausages and ribs. You make a quick cut into what turns out to be a post wedding, pre-reception photo shoot at the Yellow Breaches, and a few bridesmaids shriek as you graze their gowns. You sneak into a covered bridge to catch your breath, but not for long, as today the bridge is being sprayed with protective sealer. Your sticky and back out in the open when an 18 wheeler collides with a flock of geese immediately in front of you, coating you in goose feathers.

Trying to regain your composure, you hear the police megaphone "please put your kickstand down and step away from the bike." Oh, but you don't have a kickstand, so you clear your vision, laugh out loud, duck your head low and pedal ferociously. You're flying, effortlessly.

But at this point there is backup and they've set a trap. There are two cars in pursuit behind you and one blocking the only route in front of you down just past the new bridge. They've finally got you, so they think. That's when you jump on your pedals and pull hard on your handlebars, leaving the ground with no ramp, Knight Rider style.

The policeman draws his gun then slowly lowers it back. He rifles his hat into the pavement as you ride off through the fields and into the glorious sunset.

Entertainment. Service. Justice.

That's the point.

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