My wee red folding bike elicits shouts of “Sick!” when I zip by a gaggle of high-schoolers awed by its white tires and petite frame.
As I ride up Roncey, a driver slows to roll down his window and ask if it’s for sale. But most inquiries are from fellow cyclists asking how it rides and where they can buy one.
When I’m not around, a few people have gone so far as to see if they could steal it by breaking it in half. But most bike thieves seek whole folding bikes, not their parts, because of their customization.
Their super-funky style makes them like the bike version of a VW Beetle, and their history goes back to the 1900s, when they were designed for military use.
Folding bikes used to be chunky ‘n’ clunky, but demand from space-saving condo dwellers has turned them into sleeker models suitable for the roughest of Toronto streets.
Even among folding bikes, mine’s an oddity, with its tiny frame and tires. Many use standard tires, but I’m riding large on a set of kid-sized wheels. The frame size creates childish enthusiasm.
“Sick” is a pretty choice word to describe my ride, because it applies to me, too. After close to 20 years of not being able to ride, my disability became more manageable, and cycling became an option. I spent serious time pondering pedalling. Cardio-wise, biking was possible for me, but would it inflame my chronic pain?
Cycling friends gave me immense encouragement, but figuring out how to bike without allowing my fibromyalgia to flare up or enraging damaged body parts and a crooked spine required much more consideration. Getting slightly winded while cycling is a good thing, but putting a hurt on muscles already chronically aching is not.
Mindful riding generally keeps me off busy streets (especially those without bike lanes), and this is leading to discoveries of petite parkettes only people living near them usually enjoy. These hidden gems are great for stopping to rest, puff pot, meditate or send a tweet.
The lightness of my ride makes portaging less exhausting than riding uphill. From three spots along the Davenport bike lane, you can do a bike portage to get onto St. Clair if your wheels are light enough. The most popular is Casa Loma’s stairs, a beautiful spot to stop and admire a gorgeous skyline while catching a breather.
The other two, one in Regal Heights (connecting Davenport to Glenholme via a hidden stairway) and the other a little further west, near Dufferin (connecting Davenport to Via Italia), are missed even by locals when full summer foliage hits. Fully shaded, these two spots offer a phenomenal summer heat escape in daytime, and in the evening both have spectacular views better than the one at Casa Loma.
I’ve also incorporated subway transportation into my cycling experience. Not great on distances but big on portability, my bike is easy to ride to a subway station and then do a fold ‘n’ go to take it on the train. The subway allows me to wander far from home and cruise neighbourhoods that otherwise might be inaccessible to me.
My folding bike takes up half the space of an ordinary bike and always sparks TTC riders’ curiosity because most people, like me, see it as an opportunity to escape public transit. We’ll see more folding bikes on subways and bike lanes as people discover their awesome potential for mixed-use transportation.
They’re a great fair-weather transportation option, and rediscovering riding has led to much more than just getting around for me. Since I’ve fit cycling into my lifestyle, I’ve discovered many fab new locations. I miss both the exercise and the connection to these spots when ugly weather sets in.
Recognizing this, I plan to make neighbourhood cycle adventuring a top warm-weather priority.
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Fold-up folder
Model | Dahon Curve D3
Price | $699.99
Tires | Schwalbe Big Apple
Rims | 16 inches
Weight | 11.3 kilograms (25 pounds)
Frame | Aluminum with V-clamp body joint
Made In USA
Available at Urbane Cyclist
news@nowtoronto.com | @nowtoronto
