How I fell in love with my e-bike

For the second time this week on my way to daycare pickup, I’m stuck in my car at an intricate intersection involving a lawless parking lot exit and the merging of two major streets. A vehicle is preventing me from passing at the green light. No one makes eye contact. We’re all angry, late, stuck. I honk pointlessly, hoping for a miraculous shift. Then a bike slips by on my right, weaving through traffic. In a few seconds, they’re out of sight. Meanwhile, the light turns red again, and I haven’t moved an inch.

I used to bike everywhere. Growing up in France, biking was part of daily life. When I moved to Boston in 2012, I kept that habit, biking and relying on the MBTA for years without a car.

In 2020, eight years into my American life, I moved to Somerville. I was expecting a child and for the first time in my life, I assumed I needed a car. Even with decent Red Line access (and the Green Line extension since 2022), life with a baby seemed to require something reliable and quicker. I used the car daily, and the pandemic only accentuated the need: we escaped the city by driving through the countryside’s roads while my daughter napped in the back seat. The car became part of our life.

Four years in, I realized I’d become a full-on driver — maybe not a true Masshole, but definitely the kind who complained at every intersection and found every double-parked car a source of annoyance. I missed the days of biking, and while my daily mileage was minimal, returning to my old biking habits felt impossible. For one thing, I now lived on top of a hill, hard to climb, especially with a toddler in tow.

Then one day I started noticing people riding e-bikes — large, stable bikes powered by electric assistance. Was this the answer for my return to biking?

I did some research, and the cost was staggering. What if I spent thousands and still ended up using the car most days? I stumbled on a local volunteer-run e-bike library. Neighborhood cyclists who worked regular jobs but passionately believed in building community through biking lent out e-bikes for free so people could test them — for themselves, their family, commuting or fun.

A few weeks later I was pedaling a short-tail hauler bike through my neighborhood, my daughter clapping her hands from her back seat. She fell in love right away.

For me too the feeling was immediate: freedom! The spring air on my face. The smell of blooming lilacs. We biked to daycare, a 10-minute trip — about the same as driving 1.5 miles through city streets, except that now it became a small daily adventure. We looked at the houses and gardens. We saw squirrels running on power lines. We waved at her friends walking on the sidewalk, smiling at the sight of her colorful helmet. I was now able to climb the steepest Somerville hills, and the electric assistance gave me the extra kick I needed with my daughter’s added weight. We took a long ride on the Minuteman Trail, enjoying the countryside and stopping for ice cream. Returning the bike at the end of the week was like a sad breakup. I couldn’t live without it anymore. I began saving for my own.

The truth is, biking every day makes my life better.

Storage would be tricky: my only option was a low-doored shed at the back of my condo building where I’ve banged my head more than once. I worried about theft. And I worried about riding safely. I trusted my focus and road manners, but ultimately, safety depends on infrastructure: green bike lanes, protected paths, special traffic lights.

I’m aware of how vulnerable I am on my bike when I place my left foot on the pavement, waiting for the light to change, surrounded by cars next to me ready to roar. At the same time, there’s a feeling of power. I’m in charge. Biking teaches me how to hold my space in traffic, without provoking my anger or becoming invisible. Each ride still feels like my responsibility, much more so than when I’m driving and shielded by 3,000 pounds of steel. Roads are risky for many reasons — sharp turns, slippery conditions, potholes, high speed traffic, distracted drivers (and bikers!). I’m not here to play with my life, or my daughter’s.

When I talk about biking with friends — most of whom are drivers — some think I am crazy: “But we don’t see bikers while driving! And most of them are reckless!” Other friends listened with curiosity. When more of us bike, others feel empowered to do the same.

The truth is, biking every day makes my life better. It reduces my stress, I can choose to slow down, or to go faster. I get exercise without carving out extra time. On top of the GLX, the bike lane built next to the Green line extension, I zoom downhill, reaching neighborhoods I rarely visited before.

One year after getting my e-bike, its odometer reads over 1,000 miles. That’s 1,000 miles I didn’t drive. It’s 1,000 miles avoiding parking headaches and traffic mayhem, and 1,000 miles spent in motion, stopping at local stores for errands.

Now, when I cross the same old intricate intersection, cars are lining up, waiting for their turn. As we beat all traffic, my daughter shouts, laughing: “Poo Poo Caca!” I tell her that isn’t very nice to the poor drivers, but I smile too.

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