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March
2005 |
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Gala, Conference Weekend Highlights Indiana's 'Gotta Roll With the Changes' Bikes and Peds: On the Map, but Uncounted |
Happy Randy-versary! In the fall of 1991, my Toyota's transmission failed in smoke, with a puddle of fluid spreading beneath it. Lacking the $1,000 to replace it and living off-campus, I spent the $250 I did have on a bike. I fell in love with the asceticism and self-sufficiency of the car-less lifestyle. Soon after, I serendipitously picked up an issue of Chicago magazine at the public library that promised to reveal the "Future Shockers," 10 brilliant thinkers defining the future of Chicago. Randy Neufeld was one of them. Randy promised to make Chicago a bike friendly city. When the writer asked if his vision included a bike lane on Lake Shore Drive, Randy responded that he envisioned Lake Shore Drive with a car lane. My girlfriend remarked that Randy's sister and brother-in-law attended her church in south suburban Markham. Soon after, I asked her to marry me. I'm not saying I married my wife to meet the sister of the man I wanted to work for. I'm writing it, and that's an important distinction. As a writer, I'm allowed to write things that might or might not be true in order to get at THE truth, which here is two-fold: 1. My wife rarely reads what I write anymore In 1995, Windy City Sports magazine named Randy Sportsperson of the Year. Bicycle Retailer & Industry News awarded him the inaugural Advocate of the Year in 2001. He has become the trusted bicycle adviser to state and federal legislators as well as local officials. Schaumburg has named a bike path after him. His talents explain part of his success. Randy can crystallize a confusing political situation into clear facets and edges representing motives and influence. He can absorb the knowledge of an expert and begin a dialogue with him or her as a peer. He can move from overview of a topic to detail and back with remarkable agility. He can weigh a greater fraction of all available opportunities in a shorter amount of time than anyone I know. There are others similarly able-minded, but most of them would have trouble getting people on fire to follow them into a lake. To watch Randy pull even doubters to his side, transforming shaking heads into agreeing nods is to wonder how he does it. I've watched this process for 10 years, and I've narrowed down some of the characteristics that make Randy so compelling: 1. He's tall. Randy stands 6'3", his willowy frame lengthening the lines of him as he leans forward to address you, counting out the points he's making on his fingers, gesturing toward the dangerous streets out there, or doing the "he's got the whole world" motion with both arms and hands. My 5'5" body is animated when I talk, I'm told, but the audience responds to me as if I've just performed a presentable soft shoe routine as a poodle. Size matters. 2. His voice penetrates meetings, walls, other conversations like an electric drill. A natural gift bequeathed by a long line of Anabaptist preachers, Randy's voice keens into people's heads like a carbide bit into concrete. It's a voice that makes him sound not just always righteous, but right. 3. He can project that righteousness as a trumpet blast that topples walls in bicycling's way or as sunshine's warmth that makes bike riders and those who work on their behalf feel like better people. We are fortunate to have Randy's qualities marshaled for improving bicycling in Chicagoland. History has used other persuasive leaders for advancing both evil and trendy diets as often as it has for good. He could have gone so many other ways. To help you appreciate the alternative scenarios narrowly averted, I've listed three causes that threatened to sweep Randy-and therefore all of us-from this coursing river of bicycle advocacy into tributaries that emptied into the sea of oblivion: 1. In 1996, a fire spread in Randy's belly over the wasted Cheerios thrown away with the dust at the bottom of the cereal box. His campaign to recover the Cheerios using a pasta strainer was thankfully snuffed at its inception by everyone in the office being on the phone at the time. 2. In 1998, Randy's soul was consumed by the poor quality of popcorn produced by CBF's microwave and hot air popper. His revolutionary idea, to cook popcorn over a propane torch in his office, led to visions of how much happier society would be once they tasted his popcorn. That dream was mercifully put to rest when his wife called to ask what he was doing right then. 3. In 2001, Randy's zeal for Sacred Harp, shaped-note singing, which is like Gregorian chanting without the soothing quality or melody, could have redirected the resources and people of CBF had Randy asked co-workers to take him on his word instead of having us listen to it first. Let us collectively sigh in relief. And let us ruminate on the likely direction of the next 20 years with Randy, assuming he doesn't become enflamed over chocolate chips in bagels. This architect of both city and suburban bike plans, this rallying point for the transportationally-disaffected, this icon who has ridden stoker for the mayor and served as trusted bicycling adviser to the captains of state, where will Randy lead us? Today, he brought in homemade head cheese to share. Please don't
let Steve Buchtel is the Chicagoland Bicycle Federation's
Southland coordinator
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