Editor Note: This is our seventh winning entry in our March- May My Ride Writing Contest, Susan Wilcox. We want an autobiographical story about your experience riding a bike in Austin where previously you might have done so by car. Each week, Austin on Two Wheels will select a winning entry with a $50 cash prize (and bonus for established bloggers who re-post a teaser of their story on their blog.) In June, we’ll select a grand prize winner who will receive a contract to write 5 more stories for our site. Submit your story.

A Sensory Experience

by Susan Wilcox

It’s a completely different sensory experience riding a bike instead of driving a car. You might catch some of the good stuff in car, if you roll the windows down—a breeze, some fresh air, perhaps a brief wave to someone at a stoplight. But those moments are fleeting at best in the car, while on the bike the experience is continuous.

I rode my bike from my apartment to the UT campus a couple of weeks ago (about 6 miles). I had intended to take a bus, but missed it, so I decided just to cycle the whole way in, reasoning that if the next bus caught up to me, I could always get on it.

The very first hill I came across completely flattened me. I’m not sure what the issue was—it’s a hill I’ve gone up plenty of times—but I guess my momentum was off. Halfway up I gave it up and decided to walk the rest of the way. Not a good thing when I’m already running late; I got to the top of the hill wishing I had taken the bus instead of trying to cycle in.

With that kind of start, the rest of the ride could only get better. And so it did. Manor Road flattens out a bit, so my legs had time to recover from their temper tantrum, and I started enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. I came up to a stoplight and struck up a conversation with a gentleman at the bus stop; we talked about how much we love the warm weather and what a great city Austin is. I never would have had that conversation if I’d been in a car.

Only about a mile further down the road, I got some confirmation that cycling instead of taking the bus had been my best decision—there was a striping truck, painting the outer line of the bike lane on Manor Road. And behind the slow-moving truck was a line of traffic, all unable to pass because they were going uphill. Finally, one of those opportunities I dream about: I didn’t exactly zoom past the traffic, but even though I was crawling uphill, I still crawled faster than the truck. I passed them all and reached the next stoplight feeling inordinately pleased with myself.

And with that kind of confidence boost, how could I do anything but enjoy the rest of the ride? The fresh air, the nice breeze, the warm sunshine, plus all the sights, sounds, and smells that I would otherwise have missed had I not been on a bicycle, all came rushing at me along with the adrenaline. Speaking of smells: There is a Mexican restaurant on Manor Road—and someone please tell me what it is—that I desperately want to try. I haven’t been able to figure out which one it is, but it makes me hungry every time I’m near it. Some day, I want to stop in and tell them how happy they make my cycling commute, just by piping that fantastic smell outside.

I wouldn’t exchange my bicycle for anything. I’m having too much fun.