from the cover.
from the cover. Monday
Miles: 14 (bike — work), 1.5 (bike — dinner), 1 block (feet — cat litter)
Cost: Nada Greensboro stinks. And I don’t mean that figuratively. Most of High Point Road gives off a musty smell — a moderately offensive funk that derives its industrial essence from some combination of hot asphalt and vulcanized rubber. Burger King, McDonald’s, Bojangles, Krispy Kreme, Biscuitville and Cook Out lay down a fog of fryer grease that blankets the two-mile stretch saddling Interstate 40. And then there’s the roadkill — there’s a lot of
it along this road. At least that’s what my nose tells me. Funny how I never noticed in my car. The smells I mean. In the summertime I drive with my windows down because my air conditioner doesn’t work, but the olfactory subtleties of the city I call home rarely puncture my automotive shell. I notice on my bike. Maybe it’s because I’m breathing so hard, practically stuffing my lungs with all that smelly air. It’s been awhile since I did any serious riding and not only am I crawling, I’m also huffing like a pipe organ. Of all the forms of alternative transportation, bicycling is my favorite. I covered Austin and Dallas successfully without a car during college and for a couple of years afterward — saving myself thousands of dollars in payments and upkeep at a time when I genuinely couldn’t afford it. When I moved to Greensboro in 2001, I buckled and upgraded to four wheels, reckoning that I might not make it in a strange city without a car — or that I might not make it out. Two years later I moved to Carrboro, where I was able to bring my bike out of storage for the daily commute to school. And I ride in Greensboro now whenever I get the chance, or at least when I’ll be drinking. But I’ve only ridden to work a handful of times, a routine that’s changing as of 9 a.m. this morning, when I hit High Point Road during a late morning lull in traffic. The ride to work is all uphill — mostly a gentle lift toward Adams Farm with two decent hills in in the middle and the end. Enough to get
ABOVE: Our writer, rider Amy Kingsley, pedals past the bus station in downtown Winston-Salem. (photos by Jesse Kiser)