Carol:
Women’s Ways of Wheeling
I haven’t been on a bicycle in a long time, except for the stationary bicycle in our basement used intermittently when the weather was bad. The last time I was on a road bike, I was mocked by younger family members who felt I was going too slow and flustered by a husband yelling, “Shift into a lower gear. Shift down.” He assured me that it was easier to climb hills by pedaling faster and using the lowest gears, saving the high gears for speed on the flat. I never really tested this advice because, as I said, that was my final road trip. I can, however, envision the value of knowing when to apply bicycle principles of gearing up and gearing down to life situations. Apparently, 19th century women thought the same way.
Frances Willard, a founder of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, was a strong advocate for women’s rights and education/career opportunities for young girls. Her book titles show her dedication to female empowerment: How To Win: A Book for Girls (Funk & Wagnalls, 1888), Woman in the Pulpit (Lothrop, 1888), Occupations for Women. A Book of Practical Suggestions for the Material Advancement, the Mental and Physical Development, and the Moral and Spiritual Uplift of Women (Success Co, 1897). Hefty titles on weighty matters for 19th century feminists.
But there, right in the middle of that list of Willard’s publications, is a little book called A Wheel Within a Wheel: How I learned to Ride the Bicycle (WCTU 1895). Somehow in between the writing, the speaking engagements, and the suffragist marches, Frances Willard learned to ride a bike at the age of 53. Describing her personal struggles in mastering the two-wheeler, she crafted a life lesson about endurance, change, and action. She recounts how her first attempts at riding a bicycle around the town square resulted in a fall because, out of vanity, she pushed herself too quickly and on a third go-around; “the left hand played me false, turning at an acute angle, away I went sidelong, machine and all, into the gutter…” (qtd in History Matters). She then slowed down to practice, instead, daily for about fifteen minutes at a time until she had perfected the individual skills (pedaling, turning, dismounting, mounting).
Suffragist Susan B. Anthony knew Frances Willard, had stood on countless stages with her. Perhaps she had read A Wheel Within a Wheel or watched as Willard learned to ride. Or, maybe she observed how the increasing popularity of the bicycle was changing women’s fashion and liberating them from both the corset and the lengthy skirt. In 1896, Anthony wrote:
But there, right in the middle of that list of Willard’s publications, is a little book called A Wheel Within a Wheel: How I learned to Ride the Bicycle (WCTU 1895). Somehow in between the writing, the speaking engagements, and the suffragist marches, Frances Willard learned to ride a bike at the age of 53. Describing her personal struggles in mastering the two-wheeler, she crafted a life lesson about endurance, change, and action. She recounts how her first attempts at riding a bicycle around the town square resulted in a fall because, out of vanity, she pushed herself too quickly and on a third go-around; “the left hand played me false, turning at an acute angle, away I went sidelong, machine and all, into the gutter…” (qtd in History Matters). She then slowed down to practice, instead, daily for about fifteen minutes at a time until she had perfected the individual skills (pedaling, turning, dismounting, mounting).
Suffragist Susan B. Anthony knew Frances Willard, had stood on countless stages with her. Perhaps she had read A Wheel Within a Wheel or watched as Willard learned to ride. Or, maybe she observed how the increasing popularity of the bicycle was changing women’s fashion and liberating them from both the corset and the lengthy skirt. In 1896, Anthony wrote:Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel...the picture of free, untrammelled womanhood. (source: Wikipedia)
For the women’s movement, the ultimate goal was about earning the rights to a “free, untrammelled” life. Any goal, whether learning to ride a bicycle or winning the right to vote, requires the ability to achieve balance and self-confidence. It also requires that we learn how to shift gears, When faced with an uphill battle, instead of jumping off and giving up, Frances Willard and my husband would urge us on to “Shift down. Run on low gear. Slow and steady wins the race.”
Frances Willard. Excerpt from A Wheel Within a Wheel: How I Learned to Ride the
Bicycle. 1895. History Matters.
Wikipedia: History of the Bicycle.
Bicycle. 1895. History Matters.
Wikipedia: History of the Bicycle.
Megan:
Cars have Gears, right?
Although we have a lot of cars, we are not car people. When I moved back to Arizona last summer, my mother gave me her 98 Nissan Maxima and took my father’s 2000 VW Passat. Dad had already bought an Altima Hybrid for business reasons, but he doesn’t drive it. None of us are allowed to drive it. He drives a truck or his motorcycle. For as long as I can remember, we’ve had at least one more vehicle than driver in the house. We have a lot of cars, but when something goes wrong with one of them, we can’t fix it. Sometimes we aren’t even sure if something is wrong.
When I moved back, I actually had a choice between the Maxima and the truck. But when I got in the truck, the driver’s seat was jammed and I couldn’t reach the pedals. I don’t like the truck anyway, so that made an easy decision easier. One of the first things I noticed about the Maxima was that the Check Engine light was blinking, usually whenever the car accelerated. I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but I think I assumed they already knew. Aside from that, and occasionally popping out of gear when I braked, the car drove fine.
I even managed to almost document a major milestone. At the crucial moment, my attention wandered.
When I moved back, I actually had a choice between the Maxima and the truck. But when I got in the truck, the driver’s seat was jammed and I couldn’t reach the pedals. I don’t like the truck anyway, so that made an easy decision easier. One of the first things I noticed about the Maxima was that the Check Engine light was blinking, usually whenever the car accelerated. I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but I think I assumed they already knew. Aside from that, and occasionally popping out of gear when I braked, the car drove fine.
I even managed to almost document a major milestone. At the crucial moment, my attention wandered.
Then, Dad took the car in for a service and was informed that the transmission fluid was leaking all over the place, but that it would cost over a $1000 to fix. He decided not to fix it and that instead, we would “keep an eye on it” and occasionally add fluid. This is in addition to the oil leak the car has had for years, which he solved simply by parking on the dirt so it wouldn’t ruin the driveway.
A few weeks ago, I noticed that I was having a hard time getting the car to change from a resting position to a moving one. I put it into gear, and the engine would rev much higher was necessary for the speed I was going (the speed being 0). I also noticed that once I got going, the clutch no longer seemed like a useful part of the shifting process. I still pressed it down out of habit, but it didn’t seem to matter.
I know I told my mom because I spend more time with her. I may have mentioned it to my father too. The problem with both of my parents is that you have to maintain their eye contact if you want them to remember what you are saying. This used to only be true with my father, but since my mother became so involved in ancestory.com, her mind is usually running through the connections she’s made that day, trying to sort out the most interesting one to share because we only let her tell us one genealogical fact a day.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure I mentioned it. But last week, Dad took my car to Costco to fill it up and then called from the road wanting to know why no one had told him that the clutch was gone. He got another estimate, also in the thousands of dollars, and the car has been sitting useless in the drive way while we argue about what to do.
We have also had more fights about who has to drive which vehicle. Three of the four belong to him, but he still insists on taking my mother’s car when he needs to go any kind of distance. And I refuse to drive the truck, even though we found the nickel that was jamming the seat. And as I mentioned, I’m not allowed to drive the hybrid or the motorcycle. I want him to get me a new car that I can buy from him when I find a job. He wants to fix the Maxima because it’s “a joy to drive.” Even though he doesn’t drive it.
Today he has taken it for a final estimation – to see how much it would cost to fix every single thing that’s wrong with it. I doubt the mechanic is going to do anything about the interior damage, the holes worn through the carpet, or the missing chunk of back seat that Milo ate. But keeping this car is probably the best case scenario for me, as I’d rather not start a new job with car payments. Plus I like the color.
A few weeks ago, I noticed that I was having a hard time getting the car to change from a resting position to a moving one. I put it into gear, and the engine would rev much higher was necessary for the speed I was going (the speed being 0). I also noticed that once I got going, the clutch no longer seemed like a useful part of the shifting process. I still pressed it down out of habit, but it didn’t seem to matter.
I know I told my mom because I spend more time with her. I may have mentioned it to my father too. The problem with both of my parents is that you have to maintain their eye contact if you want them to remember what you are saying. This used to only be true with my father, but since my mother became so involved in ancestory.com, her mind is usually running through the connections she’s made that day, trying to sort out the most interesting one to share because we only let her tell us one genealogical fact a day.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure I mentioned it. But last week, Dad took my car to Costco to fill it up and then called from the road wanting to know why no one had told him that the clutch was gone. He got another estimate, also in the thousands of dollars, and the car has been sitting useless in the drive way while we argue about what to do.
We have also had more fights about who has to drive which vehicle. Three of the four belong to him, but he still insists on taking my mother’s car when he needs to go any kind of distance. And I refuse to drive the truck, even though we found the nickel that was jamming the seat. And as I mentioned, I’m not allowed to drive the hybrid or the motorcycle. I want him to get me a new car that I can buy from him when I find a job. He wants to fix the Maxima because it’s “a joy to drive.” Even though he doesn’t drive it.
Today he has taken it for a final estimation – to see how much it would cost to fix every single thing that’s wrong with it. I doubt the mechanic is going to do anything about the interior damage, the holes worn through the carpet, or the missing chunk of back seat that Milo ate. But keeping this car is probably the best case scenario for me, as I’d rather not start a new job with car payments. Plus I like the color.
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| After I ran over a dead skunk, I had to let it air out. |
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