Flower Power

One of the best things about cycling in the city — besides it being fast, cheap, healthful, environmentally friendly, freeing and fun — is that it is a social activity.

A month or so ago, I struck up a conversation with a fellow bike rider at the set of ring and post stands outside my office. I complimented her on the flowers she had woven in her baskets. She complimented me on my “not your bitch” sticker. I told her it was from a ‘zine called Bitter Pie and that I had only put it there in a fit of nostalgia, thinking about my last bike, which was covered in stickers.

She pointed out her “stealing bikes is bad karma” sticker amidst the faux flowers.

I said the flowers must give her good karma on the road. I figured they must do something to encourage a more chilled-out vibe from cars. I mean, surely, a driver wouldn’t speed up behind and honk in rage at someone whose bike is covered in daisies and bluebells?

Naturally, a conversation ensued about the abundance of aggressive drivers in the city and what other useful anger management techniques could be employed whilst cycling. We both sing songs, for example. I suggested a few choruses of Dennis Leary’s “Asshole” could do wonders for the nerves.

A younger woman that was with her, giggled and said, “Oh you two” and that she thought we were “hilarious”. Clearly, not a cyclist, I thought.

Then, on the first day of bike week, the day of the TTC wildcat strike and the second smog alert of the year for Toronto, something happened that restored my faith in humankind, just a little.

When I went out for lunch, I saw her bike, in all its flowery glory, locked next to mine. As I got closer the floral spray seemed to spread across the bikes and then I noticed she had attached some of the decorative flowers to my basket. She had chosen some very neutral greenish-brown springs (that actually look a bit like pot leaves) for my bike. Good choice!

I love little kooky acts of kindness like this. Such a small gesture of cyclist camaraderie has had a big effect on my attitude.

Now, if someone cuts me off and yells at me to “get off the road”, I blow a kiss instead of giving them the finger.

photo by Caz Zyvatkauskas