Every Day Adventurers

Kathleen is a PeaPod Pilot, turned mama-cyclist extraordinaire!

In her latest post, Kathleen shares 8 reasons to bike commute with your children. Her first reason is our favorite ’cause it’s true!

8 Reasons To Bike Commute With Your Kids | Utility Cycling.

First, a belated Happy Mothers Day wish, and a related blog post. Here’s a shout out to everyone everywhere mothering a dream or a positive vision of the future. You are an inspiration.

At the start of April, we received a Tweet about an effort to encourage every day cycling by having people hash tag #30daysofbiking. Excited at the prospect of people riding more and driving less, we offered up a pair of our new FreeLoader cargo slings for the “sexiest cargo photo.”

Thirty days later we perused the entries and found our winner: Cassi Yost. Cassi is a photographer, a mom, an avid Xtracycle rider, and as you’ll see, an inspired writer. Her blog at SheBicycles features beautiful photos, cycling and non, and is written in a down-to-Earth tone we really appreciate. Without further ado, the winning “sexiest cargo bicycle” photo:

Cassi's winning photo

Impressed with her photographic eye , her non-seriousness as a cyclist, we wanted to get to know her a little better. In between her busy life as mother of four teenage boys, Cassi thoughtfully responded to our questions! Thanks Cassi. –Rick
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… I came to a four way stop. A four way stop where from all four ways, cars want to get onto the freeway. To go home. On our way home. From a day of work.

And so, I stopped. And waited. And watched as each way had their turn. And then it was my turn. And I went. Straight ahead. Next to a car that was going straight ahead. Because it’s better that way – to ride with a car sometimes, so that no other cars from any of the other three ways, hit you – because while they may not see you on the bike, they’ll at least see the car.

But the car gassed it and flew away from me fast. And there I was, in the middle of the intersection, alone. And while I was there,  in the middle of the intersection, a black mercedes drove into the intersection and we made contact. My front wheel to her bumper and my right side to her hood.

And it was in slow motion. Slow enough that I knew and felt and thought about how she was going to hit me. And if I would get hurt. She never looked at me.

Afterwards. I stood there staring at her and she rolled down the window. And before I said anything, she said calmly, I didn’t even see you.

And I said, I know, you didn’t look my way, you just went. And she said, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you. And we just looked at each other. And I said, you HAVE to look. We’re out here. We’re everywhere. We’re here.

Look for us.

And she said, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.

We spoke calmly to each other. Like we were in line. At the grocery store. And cars were lining up at all the stops while we were in the middle of the intersection. We were talking. Not yelling. Not angry. We were there, just talking. And everything around us was frozen. Time stood still.

In the middle of the intersection.

And then someone honked, for us to get out the way. And  she squeezed my arm. And I squeezed her shoulder. And we both continued on our way, in separate directions. Home.