Who likes bikes?

I do. Wait, before you do an eye-roll, I’m not one of those racing bike snobs with all the fancy gear or a righteous biker with an attitude like I own the road. (I tend to see more of those folks in Cambridge on my commute to work.) But I’m a fan.

As a suburban Maryland kid in the 1970s, I practically lived on my bike. The ride I remember most fondly was a stingray-style Ross Apollo Racer with banana seat. I beat the heck out of that bike, peddling down Piping Rock Road and around the new developments of Peachwood and Stonegate, offroading along dusty dirt trails to a patch of weedy hills that local kids called “the jumps,” over to the hamlet of Cloverly and Mr. Morgan’s family grocery and hardware store like a picture out of The Saturday Evening Post, just about a mile from our house on Old Barn Court. On long steamy summer days, my brothers and I hopped on our bikes after breakfast and didn’t get off till dusk, dropping them at the top of the driveway in our famished rush to the dinner table – no thought for the kickstand. That’s how I remember it anyway.

My bike fanhood got rekindled during the pandemic. That spring and summer of 2020, locked down and going stir crazy in the house, I pulled my long-neglected Diamondback Outlook out of the garage and began riding more, mostly for exercise – whizzing around Lake Quannapowitt, grinding the hills in Breakheart Reservation, working up a sweat and clearing the head.

I’d heard on the radio back then that authorities were advising folks to consolidate small trips if possible and at some point I was hit by a mini revelation: a sudden awareness of my perpetual readiness to jump in the car and drive miles to fulfill almost any need, no matter how small. Feel like a Coke or a snack? Drive over to Four Corners. Want some cash to pay for your haircut? Drive to the ATM. Sale at Nike? Drive to MarketStreet. Growing up in a car-centered world, we don’t even think about making these innumerable little trips – it’s become a mindless, automatic impulse.

Consciousness raised, I looked for opportunities to run small errands on the bike, occasionally pedaling to the Post Office to mail a letter or picking up a book at Beebe Library; maybe heading over to CVS to grab a prescription or to Hart’s Hardware for some duct tape.

It worked. Sure, these trips took a bit more time, but the errands got done, and there were added benefits. A nice break from work and the laptop screen. A needed oxygen infusion, getting the heart pumping and circulation going. People complain about increasing traffic in Wakefield center and occasionally on these jaunts I’d find myself gliding past people inching along Main Street in their cars. Sweet.

Beyond these immediate upsides I started to notice more intangible signs of change in me. Coasting down Pleasant Street, no cars coming, I’d stand up on the pedals and weave lazily back and forth in the empty lane. I’d attack the rollercoaster hills of Breakheart Reservation in the hushed early morning, tightening into an aerodynamic crouch on the last downhill before heading home. I’d pause to admire a kid doing a wheely down the street on his trailbike while he simultaneously swerved around his fellow biker. What was I feeling? A zen-like sense of suburban wellbeing, including, I admit, a little hit of nostalgia. And something more: an intimacy with the streets and the passing landscape that comes from being closer to the ground, going slower, having to pedal and work for the distance traveled, appreciating it more. I probably wasn’t even conscious of this as a kid, or if I had been I’d forgotten about it.

It's been interesting to follow the ups and downs and roundabouts of the efforts to make Wakefield more bike-friendly. Now, I do understand that any town policy issue, no matter how anodyne or commonsensical, will provoke some dissent, but I’ve been struck by the crabbiness of the response to these efforts. The critical take from some leaders has been, basically, “Wakefield is a car town,” which seems silly. No one is proposing that cars be banned from Wakefield and replaced by bikes. You’d think, given the constant whining about traffic in the town center, that there might be more unanimous openness to making streets more inviting to bikers and pedestrians.

Of course in our Us-versus-Them era, a good bit of the anti-bike fist-shaking gets directed at an amorphous bogeyman, an imagined group of righteous bikers and woke libs who purportedly aim to take over Wakefield and turn it into Oslo or Copenhagen. Lots of folks seem to have a similar attitude, even some bikers.

After a recent jog around Lake Q with my geezer running buddies, a friend of one of them who’d passed us on his bike stopped to say hello. We asked about his routine – he rode all the time but only for exercise, no errands – and the talk turned to the controversial installation and removal of the new bike lane on North Ave. We all agreed the process had been unfortunate and I could tell that pretty much everyone in the conversation bought into the “righteous bikers” stereotype. “I’m a biker who doesn’t like bikers,” the friend said with a wry smile. We all chuckled.

It doesn’t have to be this way. On a trip to Paris in 2023, my wife and I were struck immediately by one particular change to that immortal city’s landscape and lifestyle since we had last been there years before: there were clearly-marked bike lanes on many of the main thoroughfares and significant side streets, and these were bustling at all hours with bikers, commuting to work, riding to shops and cafés, exercising.

Upon further investigation, I learned that the change had come about thanks to visionary Paris mayor Anne Hidalgo, whose policies included not only installation of the bike lanes (180km of new lanes around the city) but also adding 130k new parking spots for bikes, converting 60k car parking spaces to green space, imposing rules on driving cars in the city center with exceptions for residents, workers, emergency vehicles, taxis, and those with limited mobility…and more.

The effect has been transformative, shifting to a noticeably more bike- and pedestrian-friendly feeling on the streets, not to mention reducing levels of air pollution in the city by 55% since 2005.

It’s not just the mayor who’s responsible – these changes have enjoyed broad popular support. This reveals a fundamental truth about making progress in a democratic society, which is that it’s got two necessary elements: leaders with a vision for positive change; and people who are open to such change.

I know, I know, I can hear the wiseacre laptop warriors of the Wakefield Facebook groups now: “Hold on there, young feller. Wakefield, in case you didn’t notice, is not Paris.” Can’t argue with that. But there is one important and relevant way that Paris, France, and Wakefield, MA, are indeed alike: both have been around way longer than cars, and their design and geography reflect this. In Paris, it’s in the narrow streets and alleys (big SUVs don’t work so well); the old cobblestone “places” (pronounced “ploss”) where you can easily imagine the clopping of horse hooves from centuries gone by; the dense, enchanting sections or “quartiers,” each seemingly just around the corner from another. In Wakefield, it’s in the close proximity of many neighborhoods to town center with its neighborly shops and businesses on Main Street and along Albion Street running over to North Ave and the train depot; and in the warm, welcoming feeling one experiences resulting from the town’s relatively small size combined with its open, airy vistas around the lake funneling gently down through the Commons toward the Square.

The recent Wakefield Porchfest provided a great example of the town’s bike-friendly potential. My wife and I had been looking forward to the fest, but also felt the idea of driving around town to watch the different performers somehow went against the pedestrian spirit of the event. So, traveling on foot, we stuck to our part of town. But while listening to an impressive singer/guitar player on Pearl Street, we saw a couple about our age ride up on their bikes, leaning casually on the seats while they took in the show. Bingo. The perfect mode of transport to shrink the map and get to more porches – without getting in the car.

Actually, if you open your mind just a crack and apply a little imagination, it’s easy to see how Wakefield, compared to other neighboring towns, has excellent potential for becoming a great bike- and pedestrian-friendly place. The vision of a Wakefield town center a bit less clogged with cars and a bit more bustling with walkers and bikers – shopping, dining, running errands, going about their daily business – seems not only desirable, but absolutely possible.

I’m open to it. I hope our town leaders will continue to work towards realizing this vision, and I hope my fellow Wakefieldians will stay open to the possibility. You never know, maybe you’ll become a bike fan too.

First published in the Wakefield Daily Item, September 22, 2025.

© Jeff Kehoe