OUR STORY

I love riding bicycles—cruisers, road bikes, mountain bikes, tandem trikes—even inside bikes on trainers when I can’t make it outside.  There is nothing like the joy and freedom that can be experienced when pedaling around outdoors.  We Ride Bikes was started as a way to share the physical, mental, and emotional benefits of a bike ride with those around us.

I grew up in the town of Claypool, Indiana.  When I was a kid, Claypool had one four way stop, a small grocery store, grain elevator, bank, post office, and funeral home.  My dad was a fifth grade teacher at the local elementary where the classes were small—one class per grade.  In the summers, he would work around the yard and the house and then there would often be a break for a bike ride—usually to a place to go swim.  I don't know that I fully recognized it then, but bikes represented not only fun, but exercise, and connection, as well.  

I want to tell you about three of the relationships that have impacted my life.  

First up is my brother, Josey.  Our family adopted Josey from Brazil, South America in 1985.  He was an infant at the time and had been found abandoned on the steps of an orphanage.  Josey has struggled with learning disabilities, but I remember very clearly one day when Mom and I, in high school at the time, waited for him to get home from kindergarten so he could help us get one of our old riding lawn mowers started.  I also remember the first time Josey was in jail.  It was a tough Thanksgiving and Christmas without him.  A couple of years ago he completed several months at the Salvation Army Adult Recovery Center in Indianapolis.  He was hired as a driver for them and we were looking for sort of a halfway house to which he could transition.  I remember feeling this desperate desire that he would find some men to build new relationships with, find a new community, because all those he had left back at home were still using.  He didn't.  He was back in that area, using, until his latest arrest which has landed him back in jail.  And the sad thing is that right now, while this is not my hope for him, it's better than where he could be.  We almost lost him to a heroin overdose on August 9th of this year.

And there was Cameron.  My grandma and grandpa lived next door to us in Claypool, and they foster parented infants.  Cameron had an amazing smile, the sweetest personality, and cerebral palsy.  He was a part of our lives for a couple of years.  The day I remember the most that is connected to him is the day that I heard he was going to be adopted.  Now, that should have been a happy day, he had very little mobility and was getting too hard for my grandma and grandpa to move around, they would clearly not be able to adopt him and provide lifelong care.  However, I still remember it as a terribly sad day.  He was a part of our family and it felt like we were giving him away.  I wanted to be able to take him, to be able to help with his care, to continue to love him up close, to add value to his life. 

Finally, there are my grandparents.  My grandma and grandpa, who lived next door, and my grandmother and granddad, who lived on the other side of Claypool, a mile or so away.  I have been crazy blessed, I had all of my grandparents until 2014 when my grandma passed away a couple of weeks shy of 91.  And I saw them at least once or twice a month, driving the 2 1/2 hours to see them often, as it was clear how much they loved being able to spend time with me and my family.  That was always the hardest part of living in Shelbyville for me, wanting to love them well just by being there, and instead, being here, and wanting other families in the area to love them and spend time with them.  I still have my grandad.  He's been wanting to ride a bike outside for the past couple of years, probably since my grandmother passed away.  I've been trying to figure out a way that he could do it that would keep him safe and still give him what he wants out of it.  

So—why do these stories matter, especially today?

These people represent one side of the reason I started We Ride Bikes.  The rest of us represent the other.  They are all people that I love, but that I alone have not been able to meet their needs for connection, belonging, relationships—fun even.  And, additionally, I have struggled to find the best ways for me and my family to get involved, to impact the ones around me that represent them—people struggling with addiction and other difficult life circumstances, the less-abled, and the elderly.  Bicycles are a way to get us out in the fresh air and give joy and connection to each other, whether we are involved in rides as those participating in services offered or as the volunteers helping to make them available. 

Bikes to Borrow is one of our programs that is designed to support others, especially people working on overcoming tough life circumstances, such as addiction or maybe even a disability.  We provide bikes, helmets, everything necessary for a bike ride, including a leader, to borrow at no cost.

Cycling Without Age—Shelby County is a program we are starting that provides free bike rides to the elderly and less-abled through a trishaw.  Passengers ride on a bench seat in front while a pilot rides the e-assist bike behind, facilitating an awesome ride for the passengers as well as conversation between them all.  Further, there are additional volunteers that ride along (either on their own bike or one borrowed from us) that provide increased support and safety.

And this is just where we are starting.  Our potential to connect those who can benefit on the receiving end of these programs to those volunteers who can benefit on the giving end will only increase as we build our fleet of bicycles and trishaws.  

And by the way, I did figure out how to get my Granddad on his bike rides.  

With joy, Celi Taggart