When Comte Mede de Sivrac invented the celerifere at the end of the eighteenth century, he forgot what from the perspective of our advanced technology we would say is of fundamental importance: The celerifere was a bicycle without a steering mechanism. You might wonder how de Sivrac came up with the idea for a wooden bike with no free-turning front wheel and no handlebars. Was his neighborhood in a town with only a single straight road? Was his life running on the straight and narrow path to a single destination?
We take steering for granted. A guy named Baron Karl Drais von Sauerbronn incorporated it into his “bike” in the early nineteenth century. In vanity, he called his version draisienne. Powered by the rider, whose feet were on the ground and not on pedals, the draisienne is still around. Toddlers use plastic versions of it.
One could use cladistics to trace the evolution of bikes. Each clade would be a significant change that would differentiate it from its predecessors: A second generation (draisienne) with steering; a third with pedals and chains; a fourth with gears; a fifth with foot brakes; and a sixth with hand brakes; all followed by the sophisticated developments of modern bikes.
In a sense, our lives are like the evolution of bikes. We aren’t in much control of direction early on, but we acquire some steering ability, and we add layers of personal technologies that help us get to destinations of our choosing. Some destinations lie not along some singular straight path, but rather up some twisting lane into a cul-de-sac. The destinations we choose vary, and some end up not being worth the journey. Nevertheless, we’re fortunate to be able to turn our life-bike in a different direction, pedal uphill or glide downhill, turn as we wish, explore as we choose, and sometimes simply enjoy the ride with no particular destination in mind.
For those who choose to ride a celerifere, only luck prevents disappointment or an unhappy accident. Happiness is less chancy for those who ride nothing less than a second-generation bike. For those who steer, destinations become purposeful goals, and if they choose, even their journeys become destinations.
We take steering for granted. A guy named Baron Karl Drais von Sauerbronn incorporated it into his “bike” in the early nineteenth century. In vanity, he called his version draisienne. Powered by the rider, whose feet were on the ground and not on pedals, the draisienne is still around. Toddlers use plastic versions of it.
One could use cladistics to trace the evolution of bikes. Each clade would be a significant change that would differentiate it from its predecessors: A second generation (draisienne) with steering; a third with pedals and chains; a fourth with gears; a fifth with foot brakes; and a sixth with hand brakes; all followed by the sophisticated developments of modern bikes.
In a sense, our lives are like the evolution of bikes. We aren’t in much control of direction early on, but we acquire some steering ability, and we add layers of personal technologies that help us get to destinations of our choosing. Some destinations lie not along some singular straight path, but rather up some twisting lane into a cul-de-sac. The destinations we choose vary, and some end up not being worth the journey. Nevertheless, we’re fortunate to be able to turn our life-bike in a different direction, pedal uphill or glide downhill, turn as we wish, explore as we choose, and sometimes simply enjoy the ride with no particular destination in mind.
For those who choose to ride a celerifere, only luck prevents disappointment or an unhappy accident. Happiness is less chancy for those who ride nothing less than a second-generation bike. For those who steer, destinations become purposeful goals, and if they choose, even their journeys become destinations.
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