THE BANK DRIVE-THRU
Who knew that you’re not allowed to ride your bike through the bank drive-thru? At least that’s what I was informed the last time I drove through in my car. The conversation went something like this:
TELLER: (straight face) Did you ride your bike through here the other day?
She finishes with a scowl.
Me: (proud, like she might want to ask me where I got such a cool bike) Yes, I did.
TELLER: Well, you’re not allowed to do that. The other teller didn’t know when you came by the other day.
More scowling and eye averting.
TELLER: Bank rules. Something about liability.
Me: How about an electric bike? I’d lock my bike out front, but there are no bike racks.
TELLER: (Clearly she doesn’t want to make eye contact with someone who was once a friendly face, but is now a criminal – the likes of a punk skateboarder, scuffing up the curbs.) I’ll have to see.
End of discussion.
In order for my bike to be in clear view, the next time I rode to the bank, I saddled right up cozy to the entry. Unfortunately, the location was less than ideal for ADA access.
The post office was better in that the bike rack is right next to the front door, though navigating the parking lot is a bit like playing Russian Roulette.
The Publix has yet to install a bike rack. Every time I go, I ask them politely to consider putting one in and every time, I’m met with the same reply, “That’s a great idea. Lots of people ride bikes here.”
This is the psychosis that permeates every nano-particle of our life experience. The car has become so central to our very being that other forms of transporting ourselves are in fact discriminated against.