The Simple Joy of Riding Through Ferndale... and Loving It

I recently bought a new bike from the Downtown Ferndale Bike Shop. It wasn't expensive or fancy, but it's the first new bike I've owned since my grandparents bought me one for Christmas when I was 12.

This particular purchase has slightly more significance due to the effort it took to obtain the funds. I sold a couple of items that held sentimental value in order to afford this bicycle. These items included a guitar that I had owned since I was in high school and my 1972 Schwinn Varsity 10 speed that I had been riding up to that point.

I have been commuting to and from work downtown four days a week, but somehow that didn't seem to be enough riding for a brand new bike to recieve. It was almost as if the thing was calling out to me, begging to get more experience on the road. I bought it on a Friday just before work. I rode it Saturday and Sunday to work and back. Monday came and I had a day off. The bike beckoned, "Ride me..." So I complied. My friend Steve and I rode 10 miles that afternoon around Ferndale. Tuesday came and again I wasn't commuting, but the bike called to me. So Steve and I put a post on the Suburban Detroit Critical Mass Facebook announcing that we would be riding through Ferndale and anyone who wanted to come was welcome. No one showed up so we rode out to Livernois and around the surrounding neighborhoods looking at houses.

That Tuesday ride turned into a weekly event, providing me with plenty of time on my new bike. We ride around Ferndale mostly, but occasionally we make it out as far as Royal Oak, Berkley, Oak Park, and Detroit. 

I've found that as we ride in a small group, about six or seven usually, cars passing us will do so in one of two ways. Most of the time they will wait patiently until there is enough room to pass us, but on a few occasions we will get an angry driver who cruises past us, furiously revving his or her engine, and just as he or she gets to the front of the group a car horn will blare, deafening whoever is in the lead. Sometimes we even recieve a yell from inside the vehicle to "Ride on the sidewalk!"

While I can understand the frustration of being in a hurry and getting caught behind a slower moving car or group of riders, these behaviors are rarely tolerated from children so it can be startling coming from an adult. It is disappointing to see a mature human lose control the way these drivers do, but it always makes me think, "Does he really not know that it is illegal in most cities to ride on the sidewalk?"

I try not to be offended by a momentary loss of composure. I let the driver pass, sometimes I wave or yell "Thank you!" Ultimately, if they won't remember it in an hour then why should I spend more than a moment thinking about it. This leads me to the central point of my post.

While I tend to stick close to home and explore the main and side streets of our lovely Ferndale, I also venture out into our sister cities from time to time. My experiences riding have given me a little bright spot in my heart for our fair city that could only grow through leaving temporarily. I am not going to be so naive as to say that I've never been treated poorly in Ferndale while riding. What I will say is that Ferndale has shown me the highest level of patience of any area I ride through.

I love riding in Ferndale for other reasons as well. The streets are clean and there are trees everywhere. Most of the yards and gardens are well maintained in front of beautifully built houses, offering even more to admire as I ride. Our downtown is almost always alive with business and friendly people. I don't have to continue because I'm sure everyone who lives here has the same love for Fabulous Ferndale that I do.

I suppose that can be my final reason for loving this city: the community. I know that being here holds the same quality for my neighbors as it does for me; it's a quality which breeds a mutual respect that I've never found living elsewhere. Ferndale isn't simply where my family ended up, it's where we were destined to live.