Find Yer Bike! (& Community): Friday Night Ride
On Friday February 2nd, 2024, I was sitting in the confines of my tiny apartment that seemed to be growing ever smaller over the course of winter. I had moved to Portland in October 2023 and was starting to really feel the sting of intense loneliness, the kind that punctures the chest and pulls tears from your eyes.
My partner at the time was working Friday nights and as someone who doesn’t drink, the typical weekend activity of barhopping to meet folks as I had done in my past was nowhere nearly as appealing. I needed to get out and I wanted to ride! I had a new (to-me) bicycle that I had purchased from a bike mechanic in SE Portland that hadn’t gotten much usage outside of running errands while I was working remotely, and I didn’t want to wait until summer’s Pedalpalooza bike events to start meeting people and exploring the city on two wheels.
I searched “group bike rides in Portland” online and came across the amazing Shift calendar that lists (nearly) all group bike rides that are open to the public. I saw that there was a weekly Friday night bike ride that met at Ladd Circle, just a 9 minute ride from my place at that time, on NE 16th and Glisan. Reading over the information, I was intrigued by the fact that there was no set route, just a heads up that it would be 10-20 miles with a couple stops along the way. I grabbed some snacks, water, bike lights, gloves, and left behind the fear of putting myself out there while not knowing a single person.
I got into the circle around 7:30, 30 minutes before the departure time, and started making small talk by asking people how many Friday Night Rides (commonly shortened to FNR) they had been on. The answers ranged from “I’m visiting a friend in Portland and this is my first” from “I have no fucking clue, I’ve been coming for years now”. I then asked the people with experience what kept them coming back. The answers were consistently about the people involved or the places the rides went. After going on 17 FNRs in the past year (or 1 out of every 3), I can wholeheartedly agree with both of those things.
My first night, after the customary heads up calls of “Beer Minutes” (the indiscriminate and bewildering amount of time that it takes one to finish their drink) and the subsequent “Find Yer Bike!” (2-3 minutes), we went through cracked-concrete alleyways, rolled past folks outside neon-splashed bars on Division St who cheered us on and filmed with smiles on their faces, traversed over the banned-to-cars Tilikum Crossing Bridge, and ended up downtown near the Willamette River. That night happened to be the annual Winter Lights Festival, and after dancing with some other bikers outside to house music and mingling with the crowds checking out awe-inspiring public art installations, I immediately felt the magic of community coming together in the darkness of a Pacific Northwest winter.
The beauty of FNR is that only the ride leader knows the route and total distance. If you are lucky you might get some intel on the general direction you’re headed, or maybe what to expect in terms of riding on gravel or carrying your bike over locked gates and up sets of stairs. I asked a couple people recently who consistently lead various rides, “what makes a good ride leader?” Aaron shared that “a good leader is vocal and sets expectations” while Linus mentioned that a great ride leader is one who remembers that leading a group of people around to unknown destinations is an “experiential performance art”.
I have yet to lead a ride myself, but from my perspective, a good ride leader takes you to places you have never been before. I mean that in the literal sense and also in the metaphorical. There is a childlike sense of wonder and amazement that occurs when your world grows bigger. When you reach a destination that you have only seen on a map. When you traverse across a river-spanning highway that you would likely be too afraid to go over alone. Or when you are simply motivated by others around you, and climb to the top of a hill that you would have walked up otherwise.
The others around me are a big reason that keep me coming back. Not exactly knowing who is going to show up on any given week makes it feel somewhere between a themed party and a family reunion. Introductions are made, hugs are shared, joints are sparked as peace offerings. You talk about your week, your month, or even your life with strangers and friends alike. FNR was a healthy outlet for me this summer by offering consistent community and companionship while I went through a big breakup, took a pause from social media, and spent the whole summer 100% sober. Whether it was laughing at silly stories, literally breaking bread with new friends in a 7/11 parking lot, or pushing past my limits, I cherished it all.
When I was fresh out of college, I read the book Bicycle Diaries by (the) David Byrne. It was a celebration of the unique perspective you gain when traveling at that perfect speed to take the world in, while having nothing to shield you from the elements. I took that perspective for granted while living car-free in Fort Collins, CO while attending university, and then became astutely aware how that sense of exploration was something I craved once I moved to the less bicycle-friendly Nashville, TN. Fast forward 7 years and it’s hard for me to imagine how I would view my current city and community if I had taken it in by solely traveling in a car.
I wouldn’t have heard the bullfrogs croaking under a full moon outside Forest Park. I sure would not have danced in the tall grass on the banks of the Willamette River to Prince’s music on his birthday. Would I have had the opportunity to sit around a fire 10 miles from home for hours and hours? Very doubtful.
This is all to say that I’m so thankful for the places and spaces I’ve been, as well as all the faces in between. If you’re near Portland on a Friday night and don’t want to spend it alone, come out to Ladd Circle at 7:45. I may or may not be there, but there is a world waiting for you.
