WORD
ON THE STREET
by Holiday Dmitri
The Booster - Wicker Park
February 20, 2002
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WORD
ON THE STREET |
This
revolution is made of its own revolutions and all previous revolutions.
This revolution is made of the basic impulse of loving. As it has been
said, "inside of every car there is a person trying to get out." ... And
so what should they see, through the windshields of our revolution? That
the bicycle is not only a symbol of peace but an instrument of peace,
an instrument which plays the music of peace. And we are the chorus of
peace, singing for the joy of life. On the Day of Love, I opted for a bit of revolution. So upon hearing that the bike activist collective Critical Mass was having a Valentine's Day poetry reading at Heaven Gallery, 1550 North Milwaukee, I skedaddled on over. Not one for poetry, I have to admit however that there was one act that night that impressed me: Travis Culley's recitation of his poem "The Windshields of our Revolution." Quite the charismatic speaker, Culley could easily have been a posterchild for some kind of political cause or movement (I found out later that he is) with his chiseled features, boyish good looks and interminable gusto. He was witty, with a refined flare of hyperbole and theatric salvos, and I was thoroughly entertained with his performance, until that is, I realized that this guy was actually serious -- that he was really for real -- about (t)his "revolution." Culley, 28, recently wrote "The Immortal Class," a book capturing his nine months as a bike messenger in 1998. The book, a fusion of autobiography and philosophical treatise, was published by Villard Books, a division of publishing bigwig Random House. A pretty big feat, especially given that it was the memoirs of a bike-messenger -- an "unskilled" laborer usually unrecognized in the rungs of corporate America. Anyway, the sleeve's teaser opens with Culley moving to Chicago to work and live as an artist. "He knew he'd have to struggle," went the story, "but he found that his struggle meant more than hard work and a taste for poverty. In becoming a bike messenger, he found a sense of community and fulfillment -- and a brotherhood of like-minded individualists." "The Immortal Class" traces Culley's activism back to his first ride with Chicago Critical Mass, the local leg of a proselytized international movement against "car-culture." Described by one of its own members as "a grassroots anarchy set," Critical Mass started out nine years ago in the city of the Left Coast Lefties, San Francisco, to educate people of bicycling as an alternative -- a more utilitarian, energy-efficient means of travel -- to automobiles. Critical Mass uses many means to accomplish this. One of their more controversial campaigns for a car-free society, a vision Culley and enough of his foot soldiers advocate, is the "holdup," a protest that has riders purposely blocking (though they prefer to call it "liberating") a busy traffic intersection to publicly draw attention to the "transportation inequities" existing in any given city. Chicago had its first ride in September 1997. This month celebrates the Windy City chapter's fifth annual anti-car show in response to the Auto Show at McCormick Place that ran from Feb. 9 - Feb. 17. Today Culley is one of the unofficial heads of the Chicago branch. In his spoken lexicon filled with loaded language as eloquent, lofty and lethal as a philosophy student's term paper, he talks to me about the movement... "In the eyes of God, we [the bicyclist] have priority on the streets," preached the pedal-pusher-cum-author. "We need to manage our social needs more strictly. Human beings are more fragile than the earth, yet we put human life in danger every day. We teach our kids at 16 to operate something that can be used as a weapon before they can even vote. That is the height of parental negligence." The height? Goodness. Starving your child, locking him in a closet for days, or exposing him to non-stop Teletubbies programming, those may be signs of parental negligence ... but teaching your child to drive?!? Can you even imagine bringing up "automobile assisted disregard" in Family Court? ("Yes your honor, it was me who handed Johnny the keys to his first car." It would never fly.) To his defense, Culley asserts that he is a realist. He understands that his Utopian vision of seeing Chicago's famous roadway Lake Shore Drive de-paved, or the oil-garchy and car-industry's Big Businesses disrupted, may never happen. He is only clinging to his dream, this humanizing "revolution" of the Critical Mass. And what is wrong with that? Personally, I have no issues with bicycling. However Culley's grand vision of reclaiming public space from the "tin suits" (what he calls cars) has me wondering if this guy is really speaking for the biker masses? If these half-truths, sweet dreams and far-fetching conclusions represent the organization at large. The other day, while reading John Greenfield's cover story "Shoot the Messenger" in last years Reader, I stumbled upon this Culley quote (also in his book, but well ... I never got to it): "The bicycle is a philosophy, a way of life, and I am using it like a hammer to change the world and to redeem our war-torn cities." So there -- a toast, dear readers, to the unsung hero! For in the midst of our "war-torn" landscape, there stands a few brave men. Here's to the revolution, Culley. In the meantime, I'm sticking with the cars, the airplanes, and anything that gets me to where I want to be faster. Side
Note: In case you want to come for a ride, Chicago Critical Mass
bike rides start from Daley Plaza, Dearborn and Washington, at 5:30 pm
the last Friday of each month, regardless of season or weather. |
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