A Drafty Morning

Today something amazing happened to me on the way into town. I was cycling though the countryside,  half way through my usual 7 mile commute, when behind me I heard the put-put-put of a tractor. I scooted over toward the hedges and slowed down, to make it easier for the cumbersome heap of metal to pass me. And it did, huffing and creaking as it maneuvered around me on the narrow winding road. It was one of those smallish things with a flat-bed at the rear, piled high with freshly cut grass. These types of machines are not meant for the road and they move slowly - faster than a typical bicyclist, but closer to bicycle speed than car speed. In the cabin, the driver gave me a friendly wave as he passed. He then made some other gesture I could not make out and slowed down. I did not understand what he wanted at first. Why did he pass me only to slow down to a speed slower than mine? Soon I was a foot behind him and applying brakes. Now what? If I pass him, we will only play leapfrog.

Confusing me further, at this point the driver turned around, made eye contact and gave me a thumbs up. Then he began to speed up again. I followed suit, and as I did, it finally hit me what was happening: He was offering me to draft him!

Quickly I scanned the back of the tractor.  A metal ledge and a pile of cut grass; no sharp edges to impale myself upon. This was crazy, but what the heck!

As he increased his speed, I followed suit and increased mine, so that the distance between us remained the same. I did not have my computer, but by feel alone I could tell I was traveling faster than I would on my own power. It was just like riding in a paceline, sort of.

Occasionally, the driver would turn around and give me a questioning nod, like "speed still okay?" And I would reply with a thumbs up.

Cruising along at what was probably 25mph on my folding bike, I spun madly in my high gear feeling little resistance. It was just like that scene in Breaking Away, sort of. I kept expecting him to stick his fingers out the window to challenge me to daredevil speeds - three fingers, four, five! Alas, the rickety farm vehicle was no more capable of such feats than I.

At the next roundabout, the tractor turned off and I rolled into town, beside myself with giddiness in the flickering sunshine. There are plenty of drafty mornings. But not quite like this one.

Driving As a Cyclist

Until last week I had not been behind the wheel of a car since 2007. But I knew this day would come - the day I would want to drive again. 

Over my years as a driver, the cars I've owned have always had automatic transmission - I never learned how to drive manual. When I mention this to an Irish friend, he shakes his head and roars with laughter. "Automatic!" He says it as if the word itself, used in relation to cars, is amusing in its absurdity. "Automatic?! Okay, so you never learned to drive properly in the first place. Well come on - I'll learn ya!"

And just like that, I am in the driver's seat. I feel ready for this, looking forward not only to being behind the wheel after such a long time, but specifically to trying the manual gear-shifting. And the funny thing is - this enthusiasm comes from being a cyclist, not in spite of it. 

The 8 mile stretch of Benone Beach is like an unpaved extension of the road. Cautiously I maneuver the rickety Saab along the sand, my left hand on the gear shift knob, my senses heightened, trying to listen to the engine's sounds and feel the give in the clutch.

Things do not go as badly as I thought they might. I am not stalling out. I press the correct pedals. My hand is getting used to the positions of the gears, so that I can shift without looking. Operating the gear box makes sense, having gotten used to the concept and feel of gears on the bike. When the gear is too high, the car makes a straining noise - not unlike a cyclist grinding along at a painfully low cadence. When the gear is too low, the car feels as if it is spinning out, unable to pick up speed efficiently. It is not a perfect analogy by any means, but it is just enough to make sense. And I can feel that with some practice this will become intuitive.

I think of driving now differently than I did 5 years ago. Cycling is a very physical activity, and it has made me more viscerally aware of the mechanics involved in operating a vehicle. I think of driving as a serious skill, rather than a perfunctory action. When in the passenger's seat I now find myself more aware of the driver's technique and degree of control under different road surface conditions and speeds. Having worked so hard to learn how to handle my bike on winding mountain roads, I appreciate the handling skills involved in operating all vehicles - be they motorcycles, tractors or cars. Some of the people I know here are extremely skilled drivers, and I must admit that riding with them is exciting. I am impressed with the smoothness and precision with which they operate their complicated, heavy 4-wheel motorised vehicles. And if I do drive myself, I aspire to aim for the same degree of proficiency.