Some weeks ago in one of my drawers I found a red journal with big sharpied letters that said "Cranky Franky." When I saw it I thought it was going to be a comedic, or rather parodic, zine about a man who is stressed about the world. Or, upon further inquiry, it looked to me like a "burn book". It was actually from a previous student who lived in the same room I now live. In it was the description of how Franky was a bicycle he had bought with the purpose to "help you explore Copenhagen and Malov... a one gear no nonsense bike." Cranky Franky was a bicycle! With the daily over exposure of cyclists swiftly navigating the cities of Copenhagen, I always look at them with jealousy. They drift by from point A to B, yet distinctly experiencing points C and D and E as they bike down the street. Unlike a car, where you are limited to an amount of mass and volume, a bicycle stands as mobile freedom. In Hamburg we had a bike tour of the city; it did feel liberating. I would speed up to catch up with the bikes in front of me, adding wind to my complexion as if I was a bird in flight, and I would also slow down to admire the architectural details and the sway of trees unfolding before me. I was inspired and I wanted Cranky Franky.
When I got home I decided to put the pedal to the metal. My Host had told me some weeks ago that he was able to find a bike for me. Nothing fancy, he said, black tubing, a working bell, and a gear for every day of the week. I hadn't found the courage to try it out. I had brushed off the bike idea to the side after remembering silly stories of biking in El Salvador as a child and getting into all sorts of trouble.This week the courage is here and I'm ready for some trouble!
I took the bike and rode down to the remote countryside just a couple of minutes from where I live. Because 1. I wanted to try it out before I killed anyone and 2. before I killed myself. We were best friends. I would put energy to get up the hill and the bike would swiftly take me down slopes and over bumps. I would maneuver the front wheel and the bike would show me all the beautiful sights of countryside. I would crank up the gear and it would get excited about going faster and faster. I rode it for an hour, stopping to breathe and admire the scenery. The sun was shining over masterfully placed clouds. Little farms sprung from the prairie the same way the grass does from the vast open fields. I think next week I am going to take it to the city! Before heading back home I stopped by the local bakery, parked my bike, bought a pastry and sat outside right next to it. I am going to call it "Happy Franky"
When I got home I decided to put the pedal to the metal. My Host had told me some weeks ago that he was able to find a bike for me. Nothing fancy, he said, black tubing, a working bell, and a gear for every day of the week. I hadn't found the courage to try it out. I had brushed off the bike idea to the side after remembering silly stories of biking in El Salvador as a child and getting into all sorts of trouble.This week the courage is here and I'm ready for some trouble!
I took the bike and rode down to the remote countryside just a couple of minutes from where I live. Because 1. I wanted to try it out before I killed anyone and 2. before I killed myself. We were best friends. I would put energy to get up the hill and the bike would swiftly take me down slopes and over bumps. I would maneuver the front wheel and the bike would show me all the beautiful sights of countryside. I would crank up the gear and it would get excited about going faster and faster. I rode it for an hour, stopping to breathe and admire the scenery. The sun was shining over masterfully placed clouds. Little farms sprung from the prairie the same way the grass does from the vast open fields. I think next week I am going to take it to the city! Before heading back home I stopped by the local bakery, parked my bike, bought a pastry and sat outside right next to it. I am going to call it "Happy Franky"