Bike Bus

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Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone

in which

nothing much happens.

You feel good,

and then you fall asleep.

I'm Catherine Nikolai.

I write and read

all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.

We give to a different charity each week.

And this week, we are giving to a group and movement that inspired tonight's story.

They are called Bike Bus World

and they transform communities and our planet through the simple act of riding bikes to school together.

You can learn more about them in our show notes.

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Now,

this technique works by engaging your brain just enough to keep it from wandering,

but not so much that we keep it awake.

The story becomes a sort of lullaby.

So please just follow along.

with the sound of my voice

and the calm shape of our story.

Before you know it,

you'll be waking up tomorrow

feeling replete and refreshed.

I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through.

If you wake later in the night,

don't hesitate to turn a story back on.

You'll drop right back off to sleep.

Our story tonight

is called Bike Bus.

And it's a story about a joyful ride to school on a spring day.

It's also about a dog enjoying a sunny patch on the lawn.

Neighbors on porches.

Music playing from a bike basket.

Paper sack lunches.

And the joy of a trip taken together.

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Okay,

it's time.

Lights out.

Devices down.

Make getting incredibly comfortable your only priority.

Feel the softness of the sheets.

The heaviness of your limbs.

How close you already are

to deep, restful sleep.

Your work is done for the day.

Nothing is left

but rest.

Take a slow breath in through your nose

and sigh it out

once more, please.

Breathe in

and exhale.

Good.

Bike bus

Stepping outside this morning,

I felt spring all around me.

The air was cool and clean smelling,

like new grass and green leaves.

I zipped my jacket up as I came down the front steps

and smiled up at the colors in the sky.

The tail end of sunrise was unfolding in pinks and oranges.

The first flowers of the season were poking up through the soil in the beds around my house.

And I guessed in a few days we'd see bluebells and anemones opening up.

I'd planted some tulip bulbs last autumn and had crocuses that came back every year.

But I'd also been cultivating some wildflowers in the backyard

and was excited to see the trout lilies and the Dutchman's breeches

that would bloom along the fence.

I stopped at the garage,

pushed my hip into the sticking side door, and nudged it open.

From a hook on the wall, I took down my yellow vest and crossing guard stop sign.

I'd been volunteering a couple days a week since the school year started in September.

And I found I looked forward to these mornings and afternoons more than I'd expected.

Back down the driveway and out onto the sidewalk,

I slid the vest over my arms,

passing the sign back and forth between my hands.

The intersection I guarded was only two blocks away,

and now that the winter weather had broken, I always walked.

I could have managed it, even on the very cold days,

but had found that it was better to keep my car near where the kids crossed in bitter weather.

I had a collection of extra hats and gloves in my trunk for anyone who had forgotten theirs.

Even a box of hand warmers that I passed out when it was really brutal.

I'd played music from the car stereo on those days to dance to when my legs grew numb,

to boost the young ones' spirits on their way to school.

But now that the days were warming and sunnier,

there were other ways to keep the kids moving and cheerful.

One

specific way that I loved to be a part of.

They called it the bike bus

and it consisted of a few teachers and parents leading a pack of kids all on bikes.

to school in the morning and back home in the afternoon.

Our PE teacher had started it a few years before

after getting the idea from a colleague in another district

and had come to school safety and crossing guards to make a plan.

The owner of the bike shop downtown had stepped in to help as well.

He'd even started a monthly bike maintenance and and repair clinic at the school,

where our riders learned to patch a tire, to fix broken chains, and adjust their brakes.

When it came to the actual ride each day,

there were a few rules.

Everyone had to wear a helmet.

We tried to keep the ratio of grown-ups to kids at about one to four.

Kids needed to stay behind the leader, and

everyone kept to the planned route.

After that, the goal was just to have fun outside together.

And boy, did we have fun.

The bus driver, the grown-up in front, carried a speaker in their basket

and played happy upbeat music.

And watching the kids sing along as they zoomed past

made me smile

so hard

that tears sometimes came to my eyes.

Often on days I wasn't stationed at my post,

days I wasn't scheduled to volunteer at all,

I found myself rolling down my driveway on my own bike

and heading out to help ride along.

I'd pick up the rear to watch for stragglers

or weave into the middle of the pack to help the kids keep pace and pay attention.

The bike bus was a source of pure joy for me, and I knew I wasn't the only one.

Neighbors came out onto their porches with coffee cups to watch as it passed

or to stand on the curb and cheer the kids on.

Because of it,

I knew more people on our street by name.

It seemed like we all spent more time outdoors now.

And And it even seemed to change the way cars drove on our street.

More aware that folks were biking and walking.

There was a noticeable effort to share the street.

And that felt good.

As I came up to my corner, I checked my watch.

I'd be seeing the first walkers in the next few minutes.

And there still were a few kids who just prefer to walk to the noisy, busy bus group.

That was a nice thing about having these options.

Some days you might want to ride with friends,

chat, and sing together.

And other days you might need some quiet time alone

to take in the world

in a slower way.

And the kids could choose each day.

I saw a girl walking toward me

and put up my sign to guide her through the intersection.

She had a large black case with her.

A saxophone, I guessed, by the shape.

And as we got to the curb, she nodded a thank you.

I wondered if she was thinking through a piece of music,

or vocabulary terms, or dates for a history quiz.

Next came a group of siblings,

three kids,

two of which might have been twins.

They each had a brown paper lunch sack clenched in one hand

and a book bag slung over a shoulder

and joked with each other as they crossed the street beside me.

From down the street,

the sound of music and bike bells came,

and from the doggy door of the house on the corner, a spotted pooch shot out into the yard.

She ran to the fence and sat down,

her tail swishing back and forth behind her.

We all liked watching the bike bus pass.

I stepped into the intersection

to block any cross traffic

and waved to the bus driver

to show all was clear

there must have been 50 people in the bus this morning

I recognized teachers and parents and lots of the kids

Some of the adults had trailers on their bikes with toddlers strapped in

and I noticed a few teenagers who I knew were guiding their little siblings to class

before heading further on to the high school.

We smiled at each other as they all flew by.

The kids bopped to the music on their bike seats.

And the adults, while keeping one eye on the side streets and cars and driveways, were singing along too.

At the tail end of the bus were some of the slower riders,

some whose legs were just a lot shorter and took more effort to keep up.

And some who just weren't in any particular hurry to get to school today.

Eventually, the last rider passed

and the music began to fade into the distance.

The dog at the fence,

now finding a bright patch of sunlight, scratched at the grass a moment

and then settled down onto her belly,

crossing one paw over the other

and resting her chin across them.

I could see a few more walkers coming.

There would be another ten minutes or so of stragglers,

and then my morning work would be done.

Starting my day this way

with fresh air and joy,

a bit of service, music, and others.

I felt so glad for my life

the way that it was.

And

I'd get to do it all again

this afternoon.

Bike bus

Stepping outside this morning,

I felt spring all around me.

The air was cool and clean-smelling,

like new grass

and green leaves.

I zipped my jacket up

as I came down the front steps

and smiled up at the colors in the sky.

The tail end of sunrise

was unfolding in pinks and oranges.

The first flowers of the season

were poking up through the soil

in the beds around my house.

And I guessed in a few days

we'd see bluebells

and anemones opening up.

I'd planted some tulip bulbs last autumn

and had crocuses that came back every year.

But I'd also been cultivating some wildflowers in the backyard

and was excited to see the trout lilies

on the Dutchman's breeches

that would bloom along the fence.

I stopped at the garage,

pushing my hip

into the sticking side door

and nudged it open.

From a hook on the wall,

I took down my yellow vest and crossing guard stop sign.

I'd been volunteering a couple days a week since the school year started in September.

And I found

I looked forward to these mornings and afternoons

more than I'd expected.

Back down the driveway

and out

onto the sidewalk.

I slid the vest over my arms,

passing the sign back and forth

between my hands.

The intersection I guarded

was only two blocks away

and now

that the winter weather had broken

I always walked.

I could have managed it

on the very cold days

but had found that it was better to keep my car

near where the kids crossed

in bitter weather.

I had a collection of extra hats and gloves in my trunk.

For anyone who had forgotten theirs.

Even a box of hand warmers that I passed out when

it was really brutal

I'd played music

from the car stereo on those days

to dance to

when my legs grew numb

to boost the young ones spirits on their way to school

But now that the days were warming and sunnier,

there were other ways

to keep the kids moving and cheerful.

One

specific way

that I loved to be a part of.

They called it the bike bus

and it consisted of a few teachers and parents leading a pack of kids

all on bikes to school in the morning

and back home in the afternoon

our PE teacher had started it a few years before

after getting the idea from a colleague in another district

and had come to school safety and the crossing guards to make a plan.

The owner of the bike shop downtown

had stepped in to help as well.

He'd even started a monthly bike maintenance and repair clinic at the school

where the riders learned to patch a tire,

to fix broken chains,

and adjust their brakes.

When it came to the actual ride each day,

there were a few rules.

Everyone had to wear a helmet.

We tried to keep the ratio of grown-ups to kids

at about one to four.

Kids needed to stay behind the leader,

and everyone kept to the planned route.

After that,

the goal was just to have fun outside together.

And boy, did we have fun

the bus driver

the grown-up in front

carried a speaker in their basket

and played happy upbeat music

watching the kids sing along as they zoomed past

made me smile so hard

that tears

sometimes came to my eyes.

Often on days I wasn't stationed at my post,

days I wasn't scheduled to volunteer at all,

I'd found myself

rolling down my driveway

on my own bike

and heading out to help ride along.

I'd pick up the rear

to watch for stragglers

or weave into the middle of the pack

to help the kids keep pace

and pay attention.

The bike bus was a source of pure joy for me

and I knew I wasn't the only one.

Neighbors came out onto their porches with coffee cups to watch as it passed

or to stand on the curb

and cheer the kids on.

Because of it,

I knew more people

on our street by name.

It seemed like we all spent more time outdoors now

And it even seemed to change the way cars drove on our street

More aware that folks were biking and walking.

There was a noticeable effort

to share the street.

And that felt good.

As I came up to my corner,

I checked my watch.

I'd be seeing the first walkers in the next few minutes.

And there were still a few

kids who preferred a walk to the noisy, busy bus group.

That was the nice thing

about having these options.

Some days you might want to ride with friends, chat and sing together.

On other days,

you might need some quiet alone time

to take in the world in a slower way.

And the kids could choose each day.

I saw a girl walking toward me.

and put up my sign

to guide her through the intersection.

She had a large black case with her.

A saxophone, I guessed, by the shape.

And as we got to the curb,

she nodded a thank you.

I wondered if she was thinking through a piece of music,

or vocabulary terms

or dates for a history quiz

next came a group of siblings

three kids

two of which might have been twins

they each had a brown paper lunch sack

clutched in one hand

and a book bag slung over a shoulder

and joked with each other as they crossed the street beside me

from down the street

the sound of music and bike bells came

and from the doggy door of the house on the corner

a spotted pooch shot out into the yard.

She ran to the fence

and sat down,

her tail swishing back and forth behind her.

We all liked watching the bike bus pass.

I stepped into the intersection

to block any cross traffic

and waved to the bus driver

to show that all was clear.

There must have been fifty people in the bus this morning.

I recognize teachers

and parents,

lots of the kids.

Some of the adults had trailers on their bikes with toddlers strapped in.

And I noticed a few teenagers

who I knew were guiding their little siblings to class

before heading further onto the high school.

We smiled at each other

as they all flew by.

the kids bopped to the music on their bike seats

and the adults while keeping one eye on the side streets

and cars and driveways

were singing along too

At the tail end of the bus

were some of the slower riders,

some whose legs were just a lot shorter

and took more effort to keep up,

and some who weren't in any particular hurry to get to school today.

Eventually the last rider passed

and the music began to fade

into the distance.

The dog at the fence,

now finding a bright patch of sunlight,

scratched at the grass a moment,

and then settled down onto her belly,

crossing one paw over the other,

and resting her chin across them,

I could see a few more walkers coming.

There would be another ten minutes or so of stragglers,

and then my morning work would be done,

starting my day this way

with fresh air and joy,

a bit of service

and music and others.

I felt so glad for my life

the way that it was.

And I'd get to do it all again

this afternoon.

sweet dreams.