My Year Without a Car 騎自行車的日子

平日里，總有人想以某個新起點為契機，改變自己的某些生活習慣，嘗試另一種生活方式。比如說，從無肉不歡到完全吃素，從名牌服飾到基礎款，從開車上班到騎車出行。當然，每次改變都伴隨著一定的痛苦，與舊習慣劃清界限、與內心的懶惰做斗爭并不簡單。在不斷的掙扎與糾結中，一路走下來，也許我們收獲的將不僅是健康的生活方式，還有堅忍的精神以及由此帶來的成就感。

Last year， after three months in a book group focused on sustainability， I made a New Year’s resolution： to retire my car and bike everywhere. It was a good time to begin new habits. Having started a new job in a different part of town， three miles from home， I didn’t have a parking space. No car-bound routine had yet evolved.

But I am an unlikely cyclist. I don’t read magazines like Bike Monkey. I don’t have a cyclocomputer， or mudguards. To tell the truth， I don’t even know what kind of bike I have. Add to this the fact that I live in Portland， Ore. The rainy season， when puddles obscure the bike lanes， lasts half a year. Then add in the fact that I am uncommonly vain1） and I have a job that requires me on most days to get up in front of groups of people， to lecture and to run meetings. Vain people hate to be soggy2） when they stand in front of crowds， and I’ve never been so punctual that I could fit in3） a shower before work.

After my first few days of winter biking， I develop the mad， early-morning scramble that becomes my everyday routine. Iron dress shirt4） and khakis5）， roll them， stuff them in the black， rain-proof panniers6）. Don7） protective rain gear and fasten my ill-fitting helmet and resolve to leave more time to tighten the straps. In the last minutes tear up8） and down the stairs of the house， ranting and cursing， searching for keys.

Glance at the clock. Oh shit. Wonder if my co-workers will judge me for being late or if my boss will notice when I arrive. Lift my bike and drag it up the basement steps. Open the door. Observe the gray frigidity of the day. Wait for the familiar rush of rationalizations， a Siren-like chorus lulling me back into old， car-bound patterns.

It’s too cold.

It’s raining hard.

I have to lead a meeting today.

Just this one time I’ll drive. Only once a week is still better than driving every day.

Boy， I could turn the heater on in the car. I could stop and get hot coffee.

If I drove the car， I would make courtesy stops for every cyclist I saw. I would be a model driver， smiling and waving.

Every day I have to fight through9） my resistance.

Once I made an informal sociological observation of the cyclists who share the cavernous bike cage in the back of the parking garage where I work. On sunny days it’s stuffed. On rainy cold days， the number dwindles to three or four. Most people， even in green-crazy Portland， are fair-weather10） cyclists. Most people， I assume， struggle with the same psychological and environmental barriers that I do.

I don’t want to be a fair-weather biker. Thus evolves my curious obsession， not with biking and its accouterments11）， but with understanding a particular form of suffering. Maybe “suffering” is a grandiose word. Biking in rainy Portland is not starvation in Mumbai. For me regular bike commuting is suffering in a more Buddhist sense of the word， with a disavowal12） of comfortable， car-bound attachments.

In spite of the cold and rain and the rationalizations invading my brain， I dash out the basement door and bike like a madman. This routine gives me an intimate familiarity with many hardships cyclists face. Is this suffering real？ I wonder. Can I lessen the suffering by having a different relationship to the hardships， a different way of thinking？

Here’s one theory： My ambivalence about biking is rooted in the shapes of our car-accommodating roads. Even in what is supposedly the most bike-friendly city in the United States， biking is challenging. The road can be unfriendly. The reality of the Portland biker can be summarized in one typical image： the disappearing bike lane. Often， as I pedal， safe within a margin defined by a white line， cars zipping along my side， I cross an intersection and the road narrows. Suddenly， the bike lane disappears. It’s just me and the cars. Shit！ Should I have known the bike lane would end？ Should I go up on the sidewalk？ Am I， like the bike lane， supposed to vanish？ And what were the traffic engineers thinking when they had those incomplete bike lanes painted？ “Here’s where the damn cyclists will die，” they must have said， cackled13）， and sped away in their cars.

Other obstacles are seasonal. My first spring and summer biking to work—glorious weather！—pass quickly. In autumn， the leaves start to fall. In the early morning as I pedal to work， city leaf-blowers line the streets， sifting dust into the air. They’re doing someone a public service， but it’s not me. Even when I shield my eyes， debris invades my nose and mouth. If I don’t keep at least one squinted eye on the road， I’ll run into the curb.

In Portland there’s never more than a few days of snow， and it’s usually only a few inches. Only one day did I try biking in the snow， and that clearly wasn’t meant to be. Coming down a ramp14）， I slipped， and slid， and ultimately crashed， and walked my bike to work， skinned and limping. For the rest of the snowy weather， I walked to work.

After the snow comes the residual gravel. The city helps car drivers by throwing gravel into the snowy streets. Once the snow melts and disappears， though， for months gravel remains on the roads. The whiz of cars sweeps it into the bike lane. On wet days gravel adheres to my tires and pelts15） me. I cover my eyes and steal glances at the road. Later， when I look in the bathroom mirror at work， my face is pock-marked with black soot. Even after I vigorously rub the marks with a wet paper towel， the spots remain. Faded tattoos. Or bruises.

I look like the city streets beat the shit out of "me16）.

Can I call in sick？

Will my co-workers think I’m homeless？

Nevertheless， I stand in front of a roomful of people， about to lead a meeting. They are dry and I am wet， like the day is wet. Here’s another theory about my biking ambivalence： Like many people， I am afraid of being wet and disheveled， even though I live in one of the rainiest climates in the country. Even though we all have to walk through it and we all eventually dry off， we humans need to separate ourselves from the harsher aspects of the environment. Dry clothes， we tell ourselves， are civilized. They’re certainly more comfortable.

Curiously， as I catalog more and more obstacles， more and more shapes of cyclist suffering， I become more determined. I don’t want the environmental obstacles to become my own excuse. I don’t want to see the seasons as the enemy. My obsession grows. Not only do I bike to and from work every day， but I start biking to meetings in different buildings during the day， instead of reserving a company car. At first， hopping on my bike to pedal two miles to my next meeting， I feel guilty， as if I shouldn’t bike while on paid time. But this is Portland， I think to myself. The Green Mecca17）. When I arrive， bike helmet under my arm， hair damp and mashed， it will be a badge of honor.

No one complains. My appearance， it seems， is perennially rumpled18）， my hair sweaty and disheveled.

I look like it’s raining outside.

Because it is raining outside.

Why pretend otherwise？

As I head into the new year， I have kept my resolution to bike every day， in spite of the hurdles. I don’t plan to stop. There are the predictable pleasures， of course. I lose weight. I sleep soundly. The stresses of the workplace glide over me. Even my appetite improves， as I eat because I need energy for my biking lifestyle， not because I’m bored or sleep-deprived.

Winter days are still difficult. Rationalizations still lurk on the periphery19） of my mind， but whispery， more easily ignored. As I lug my bike up the basement stairs， open the door， and inhale the cold morning， I have a different mantra20） I repeat in my head：

Accept rain.

Accept puddles.

Accept wind resistance.

Accept disappearing bike lanes.

I climb onto my bike and feel the muscles in my legs come awake as I pedal down the wet， black street. My lungs fill with frigid air. In the fluid rush of morning I am just another whizzing particle.

去年，我參加了一個以“可持續發展”為主題的讀書小組，在加入小組三個月后，我立下了自己的新年誓言：讓自己的汽車退休，無論去哪里都騎自行車。這是一個養成新習慣的大好時機。那時我剛剛在市區的另一個地方找了份新的工作，離家有三英里遠，我在那里沒有停車位，因此還沒有開始車來車往的生活。

但我靠騎自行車出行可夠嗆。我不看《自行車迷》之類的雜志，也沒有里程計或者擋泥板之類的裝備。說實話吧，我甚至不知道自己的自行車屬于哪一類。此外，還有一個因素，那就是我住在俄勒岡州的波特蘭市，這里一年有一半時間都是雨季，自行車道常常被一汪汪水坑所淹沒。還有，我這人不是一般地愛面子。由于工作的緣故，我多數日子都要在人群前拋頭露面，做演講并主持會議。愛面子的人最恨的就是像落湯雞似的出現在人群面前。而我又從不會早到，因此沒有時間在工作前沖個澡。

自從冬日騎了幾天自行車之后，我就開始了一大早手忙腳亂、暈頭轉向的日子，這成了我每天的必修課。熨燙好襯衫和卡其褲，把它們卷起來，塞進防雨的黑色自行車掛籃里。披上防護性的雨具，系好大小不合適的頭盔，一邊心里還惦記著多留一點時間來系緊帶子。在出發前的最后幾分鐘，一邊樓上樓下地奔跑找鑰匙，一邊大聲地吼叫、咒罵。

看一眼時鐘。啊！糟糕！不知道同事們會不會責備我遲到呢？到公司時會不會被老板看到呢？提起自行車，拖著它走上地下室臺階。打開門，看著陰沉寒冷的天，等待那種熟悉的糾結與掙扎在心里涌現，它們就像海妖的歌聲一樣齊聲引誘我回到從前那種車來車往的生活模式。

天太冷。

雨太大。

我今天還要主持會議。

開車吧，僅此一次。一周僅一次而已，仍然要勝過每天開車。

嘿，開車的話，我就可以開暖氣了，還可以停下來買杯熱咖啡。

我要是開車，就會給我見到的每一個騎車人禮貌讓行。我會當一個模范司機，微笑著揮手讓他人先行。

每天我都要跟這些抵觸的念頭做斗爭。

在我工作場所的停車庫后面，有一個洞穴般的自行車棚，我曾經對在那里停自行車的人進行過一次非正式的社會學觀察。結果發現，在陽光明媚的日子里，車棚里的車停得滿滿當當。而在寒冷的雨天，停車的數量則會驟減，只有三四輛。即使在崇尚綠色生活的波特蘭，大多數人也都是只在晴天才會騎車出行。我猜想，多數人都和我一樣，在跟同樣的心理與環境障礙做斗爭。

我并不想成為一個只喜歡在晴天騎車的人。這使我陷入了一種奇怪的沉迷狀態，不是沉湎于自行車及其配套裝備，而是執著于對某種特定痛苦形式的理解。也許使用“痛苦”一詞過于浮夸矯情了。畢竟，在陰雨綿綿的波特蘭騎自行車和在孟買挨饑受餓不可同日而語。對我來說，堅持騎自行車上下班的痛苦更像是佛教意義上的受苦，是對舒適的駕車生活的一種擯棄。

盡管天冷下雨，盡管滿腦子都是糾結與掙扎，我還是會沖出地下室的門，像個瘋子一樣蹬著自行車。這個習慣使我切身體會到騎行者所遭遇的種種艱辛。但這種痛苦是真實的嗎？我不禁想問。我能通過與艱辛保持一種不同的關系，換一種不同的思考方式，來減輕痛苦的程度嗎？

有一種解釋是，我對騎自行車欲迎還拒的矛盾心態源于我們的道路是為汽車設計的。在美國，即使在人們認為最適合騎自行車的城市里，騎車也是一種挑戰。道路可能不適合騎行。在波特蘭市，騎行者所要面對的現實可以用一個典型現象來概括：消失的自行車道。本來在一條白線劃定的道路邊緣內我是安全的，汽車從我身邊呼嘯而過，可往往當我騎車穿過一個十字路口時，道路就變窄了。突然，自行車道就消失了，只剩下我和汽車。見鬼！我怎么知道自行車道就這樣沒了？我應該拐到人行道上去嗎？我是不是也應該和自行車道一起消失呢？在劃出這些不完整的自行車道時，那些交通工程師的腦子里都在想什么呢？他們一定說過：“讓那些該死的騎車人死在這里吧。”然后哈哈大笑，駕車揚長而去。

還有一些障礙是季節性的。我騎車上班的第一個春天和夏天——那些風和日麗的日子——很快就過去了。秋天，樹葉開始飄落。一大早當我騎車上班時，吹葉機就開始在大街上列隊工作了，揚起漫天灰塵。對某些人來說，這是一種公共服務，但對我來說不是。即使我護住眼睛，灰塵也會侵入我的鼻子和嘴巴。我瞇縫起的眼睛必須有一只要盯著路，不然我就會撞到馬路牙子上。

在波特蘭，下雪的日子從來不會超過幾天，每次下的雪也通常只有幾英寸厚。我只有一天試圖在雪地里騎行，結果顯然可想而知，根本行不通。在一段下坡路上，自行車打滑了，我滑了一段終于摔倒在地，我只好帶著擦傷，一瘸一拐地推著自行車去上班。從那以后，每到下雪天，我都步行去上班。

下雪過后還有殘留的碎石。為了幫助汽車平穩行駛，市政部門向白雪覆蓋的大街上拋撒碎石。然而積雪消融之后，碎石還會留在道路上數月之久。疾馳而過的汽車將碎石卷向自行車道。在陰雨天，碎石會粘在輪胎上，甩打在我身上。我遮擋住眼睛，不時地向道上瞥上一眼。后來，我在辦公樓衛生間里照鏡子時發現，我臉上布滿了黑點，像長了麻子一樣。即使我拿濕紙巾用力地擦拭，也無法將這些黑點完全擦除。它們看起來就像褪色的文身或者擦傷的痕跡。

我那樣子看起來就像被城市街道給狠狠修理了一番。

我能打電話請病假嗎？

同事們會認為我已流落街頭了嗎？

說來說去，我還是要站在滿滿一屋子人前，準備主持會議。他們個個干爽，而我卻渾身潮濕，跟外面的天氣一樣。這就是我對騎自行車存有愛恨交織的矛盾心態的又一種解釋：即使我生活在美國雨水最多的氣候環境里，但和許多人一樣，我害怕自己濕漉漉、頭發亂蓬蓬的樣子。即使我們都要從雨中走過，最后也能把雨水擦干，但我們人類需要把自己與環境更惡劣的方面分離開來。我們告訴自己，干爽的衣服是文明的標記。它們當然也更加舒適。

說來也怪，我羅列的障礙和騎行者所忍受的痛苦越多，我的決心就越大。我不想讓環境障礙成為自己的借口。我不想讓季節成為自己的敵人。我的沉迷越來越深了。我不光每天騎車上下班，而且在上班期間也騎車往返于不同辦公樓參加會議，而不是預訂公司的轎車。最初，跳上自行車騎行兩英里去參加下一個會議時，我心里還有一種負疚感，覺得不應該在上班時間騎自行車。但這里是波特蘭，我心想，崇尚綠色生活的圣地。所以，我腋下夾著頭盔，頭發又濕又亂地到達會場，這將是一種榮譽的標志。

沒有人抱怨。從外表看，我似乎一直都是這么不修邊幅，頭發濕漉漉的，凌亂不堪。

我的樣子看起來就像外面在下雨。

因為外面確實在下雨。

何必裝成沒下雨的樣子呢？

在新年來臨之際，我依然堅守著每天騎自行車的決心，盡管障礙重重。我不打算停下來。當然，這也給我帶來了許多可以預見的快樂。我的體重減輕了。我睡覺也香了。工作壓力不見了。甚至我的胃口也變好了，因為我不再因無聊或者失眠而進食，而是因為我需要能量來維持騎行的生活方式。

冬天的日子依然不那么好過。糾結與掙扎依然潛伏在我腦中的某個角落，但只是輕聲細語，更容易被忽略掉。當我把自行車從地下室樓梯上拖出來，打開門，深吸一口清晨的冷空氣，我換了一套咒語。我在心中反復吟誦道：

接受下雨天。

接受水坑。

接受風的阻力。

接受消失的自行車道。

我跨上自行車，騎行在潮濕、黢黑的街道上，感到腿上的肌肉在慢慢蘇醒。我的肺部充滿了冷空氣。在清晨川流不息的車輛中，我僅僅是其中一顆匆匆而過的粒子。

2. soggy [?s?ɡi] adj. 濕透的;浸水的

3. fit in：給……安排時間

4. dress shirt：（尤指上班時穿的）男式白襯衫

（或淺色）襯衫

5. khakis [?kɑ?kiz] n. 卡其褲;卡其服裝

6. pannier [?p?ni?（r）] n. （自行車或摩托車后輪

兩側的）掛籃

7. don [d?n] vt. 穿上

8. tear up：（沿著道路等）飛奔上去

9. fight through：（使）想方設法克服

10. fair-weather：晴天的;限于好天氣的

11. accouterments [??ku?t?m?nts] n. [復]裝備，配備

12. disavowal [?d?s??va??l] n. 否定，否認

13. cackle [?k?k（?）l] vi. 嘎嘎笑

14. ramp [r?mp] n. 斜坡，坡道