Ouch! Grit Blogger Schools Servatius

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Rethink Urban

 

We knew Stephanie would have something to say about this. And by "this," we mean the June 26 plea by Tara Servatius in the City Paper for the government to stop stop stop encouraging biking as a mode of transportation. 

 

Grit blogger Stephanie Hunt is a vocal cycling advocate and pretty damn adept at applying cool-headed logic to discourse doomed to suffocation by sensationalism and spectacle. Her take on the debate appears today in the CP, and worth your time. Here's an excerpt.

 

"Servatius is certainly not the only one who believes bikes don't belong on roads, that roads are for cars alone and that government dollars should not be spent to appease politically correct, skintight spandex-wearing bicyclists. I get that. But Servatius' argument that cycling doesn't merit our support because it may be dangerous is laughable in the 21st century, when every other forward-thinking metropolitan area — Chattanooga, Austin, Chicago, New York, Madison, and even the politically incorrect conservative bastions of Greenville and Spartanburg, to name a few — is making headway toward becoming more bicycle-friendly and thus less dangerous. If Charleston wants to retain its sheen as a top travel destination, a burgeoning Silicon Harbor, a growing economic region that can attract Generation Next talent, then it must continue the bike/ped-friendly momentum that County Council is currently supporting."

 

Read Stephanie's full article here. Don't miss her P.S. to the inciting author—like we said: Ouch. (Read Claire O'Bryan's June 26 response to article here.) 

 

In the meantime, here's an excerpt of a different ilk—one to take with you as the debate dies down, the heat tapers off, and you set out for a two-wheel spin around our fair city... It was penned by Stephanie last year in a Grit blog entitled Bike Writer, in honor of Bike to Work Day:

 

"For me, that skinny black seat on my skinny-tired bike is one of my best desk chairs. It’s where my mind frees up from to-dos and slips into more playful freewheeling.  The repetition of pedal strokes and the rhythm of breathing coax me into fresh imaginative territory, or loosen treasures of memory, sensory nuggets buried beneath quotidian rigamarole.  My riding body connects with my writing mind and my creative muscle gets a little workout. It would help if I could remember the brilliant ideas I had at mile nine by the time I roll back home at mile 29, but sometimes it’s enough just to know they bubbled up, ever so fleetingly."