On a warm afternoon in Montreal’s Mile End, I step onto Rue Bernard and find myself immersed in something quietly radical: a street reclaimed for people. To my left, a half dozen café terraces bustle with chatting patrons awaiting their food. To my right, bursts of public art and spontaneous performances animate the walkway. There are flowers, shaded seating nooks, green spaces, and more.

And all around me: no cars. Not one.

On Saturday, August 16th, Colchester resident Michael Pickering was killed after being struck by a car on Mallets Bay Avenue. This is a tragedy for everyone involved — and it was entirely avoidable.

It was avoidable because Mallets Bay Avenue is a dangerous road.

I grew up in a working class neighborhood in Providence Rhode Island. My parents never owned a car and unlike other families in my neighborhood we went for walks. Sometimes we walked to a park or to a local grocery store where I could get an ice cream cone for ten cents! We were often accompanied by King, the neighborhood dog. Many of those walks were pleasant but sometimes I walked with my father to the liquor store where my mother expected me to prevent my father from buying hard liquor. We walked at night and I became obsessed with the shadows of street lights. As I walked between street lights the shadow of the pole in front of me got shorter and shorter while the one behind me got longer and longer. My father asked me why I kept looking behind us as we walked but I did not tell him.

This past spring, our Outreach & Logistics Specialist Daniel Liguori took part in a League Certified Instructor (LCI) training down in New Haven, CT. LCI training sessions are run through the League of American Bicyclists, which is a nation-wide group that is making biking an easier and safer option for more people.

Ever stop to think about the little ramp at the end of a sidewalk?

Curb cuts might seem ordinary nowadays, but when they first came around they were anything but.

Before curb cuts, people who used wheelchairs or other assistive devices would have to find a driveway and roll their way down the street to cross an intersection. This was —obviously—unsafe.

Riding my bicycle creates a special kind of knowledge. On a bicycle I am exposed to many aspects of the environment that would be closed off to me in a car. This is not always positive! Wind, snow, cold and rain are uncomfortable and traffic can be dangerous, but I would always rather be on a bike than in a car. In John Berger’s book Pig Earth, he describes the life of peasants in the French countryside. The peasants have an extremely intense awareness of the land because they depend for their survival on the food they can grow and gather. Indigenous people often have a very refined sense of their environment. Although they may well love the land, their knowledge of it is very practical. They can perceive things that are invisible or inaudible to other people. Traditional Polynesian navigators can sail from one island to another guided only by wind, smells, and an acute perception of the water. In a similar way, a cyclist must be aware of their environment to navigate and survive. Every time I get on my bike I have to watch and listen to traffic, keep an eye out for potholes and adapt to changing weather.

A bicycle is a good vehicle to use if you enjoy taking photographs. A car can cover a lot of territory but stopping is sometimes a challenge. I often take photographs of the rising sun from the bridge between Burlington and Winooski. Those shots would have been almost impossible if I had been riding in a car instead of on my bike. I have also taken many photographs from the Colchester bike causeway, a place where you can’t drive a car! Walking is another good way to take photos but a bike gives me a wider range than walking. I have taken photos in much of northwestern Vermont.

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion remains a core value of Local Motion, despite the efforts to dismantle it by certain entities. 

I bought my Salsa Fargo from Old Spokes Home in 2008. That was the first year that Salsa made the Fargo. The Fargo is an adventure bike with mountain bike geometry and downturned handlebars. Other riders stopped me so they could take a look at the Fargo. It was an unusual look back then, but now adventure bikes are more common. I own five bikes but the Fargo is the one I ride the most. I use it for commuting year round. In the winter I ride with studded tires. Just recently I had the studded tires removed, a sure sign of spring! The Fargo’s paint is chipped but the steel frame just keeps on going. I have repairs done as needed. As I get older my Fargo is an inspiration. My body is dinged up, and I have my share of wrinkles but I hope to continue riding for as long as I can.

Each year, sugar houses statewide open their doors to the public for Maple Open House Weekend. It’s a chance to see the boiling process in person, to understand the hard work that goes into our state’s favorite sticky sap, and to stock up on maple treats. I took the “stocking up” part seriously this year as I joined in the Fifth Season bike race run by Analog Cycles in Poultney.