Biking Through Detroit
Ryan Rutledge
Issue date: 3/2/10 Section: Entertainment
Victorian homes restored and maintained on both sides as we bounce along old cobblestone streets are hidden to most, but treasured by those who know them all too well. Still early in the 30 plus miles this adventure will lead our group on, we ride two or three wide when there is no traffic and continue conversations on everyday life, love, and mostly, riding. It unites us as individuals into something more, as does our next waypoint.
The projects line the streets as does broken glass and trash, but then it appears--a house covered entirely in stuffed animals, a sculpture made of doors in the front lawn. Welcome to the Heidelberg Project. The city block now known by this moniker burned to the ground and was restored in 1999 into a modern art project. It has been documented by HBO, newspapers, and the internet. But to truly understand you have to go there because it is a sign of hope. A sign not just for Detroit but for all of us, it has risen from the ashes into something more. Messages of religion, questioning life and war, embracing love; it's all there in the art. The streets are painted and swept clean, the grass is neatly cut and trimmed, and the Port-a-Potties are spotless. Summer fashion shows and festivities are planned and organized. It shows that deep down the spirit of Detroit lives on and is embraced by some individuals who still have the gumption to be more than average.
Next up is Indian Village. Within a matter of miles the projects fade into this neighborhood. The homes are priced in the multiple millions of dollars. Greek and Roman architecture come to mind seeing the columns and arches, decorated with elaborate patterns. The streets roll smooth as glass and all the yards are groomed to perfection. It is dead quiet here; we barely speak as if it would break the mystical effect this place has.
From Indian Village we ride through Elmwood Cemetery, with tombs from the 1800's still standing. It is fenced off and seems devoid of other people at this time of the morning; but on we ride, some racing through the corners and up over the rolling hills. Others ride at pace and just glide along reading names as we pass, and admiring the intricacy of the sculpting that decorates the tombs. From here we push on towards Belle Isle, an island in the river with one bridge for in and out traffic. Cautiously pedaling up the shoulder and sidewalks, we hit the island and it begins: the separation of those who are along for the ride and those who want to see just how fast the rider in front of them really is. Belle Isle is roughly a few miles around and features part of a Formula 1 track, a zoo, a conservatory, and all kinds of people doing all kinds of activities. But for us, it's a race track, miraculously with a head wind all the way around; we jockey for position and drop into pace lines, call out as we pass people, blow past walkers on the path and never look back. At the end we congregate at the zoo, and await those who just carried pace to arrive and get a laugh out of us panting and doubled over. After a quick break for water and snacks we collectively press on.
The projects line the streets as does broken glass and trash, but then it appears--a house covered entirely in stuffed animals, a sculpture made of doors in the front lawn. Welcome to the Heidelberg Project. The city block now known by this moniker burned to the ground and was restored in 1999 into a modern art project. It has been documented by HBO, newspapers, and the internet. But to truly understand you have to go there because it is a sign of hope. A sign not just for Detroit but for all of us, it has risen from the ashes into something more. Messages of religion, questioning life and war, embracing love; it's all there in the art. The streets are painted and swept clean, the grass is neatly cut and trimmed, and the Port-a-Potties are spotless. Summer fashion shows and festivities are planned and organized. It shows that deep down the spirit of Detroit lives on and is embraced by some individuals who still have the gumption to be more than average.
Next up is Indian Village. Within a matter of miles the projects fade into this neighborhood. The homes are priced in the multiple millions of dollars. Greek and Roman architecture come to mind seeing the columns and arches, decorated with elaborate patterns. The streets roll smooth as glass and all the yards are groomed to perfection. It is dead quiet here; we barely speak as if it would break the mystical effect this place has.
From Indian Village we ride through Elmwood Cemetery, with tombs from the 1800's still standing. It is fenced off and seems devoid of other people at this time of the morning; but on we ride, some racing through the corners and up over the rolling hills. Others ride at pace and just glide along reading names as we pass, and admiring the intricacy of the sculpting that decorates the tombs. From here we push on towards Belle Isle, an island in the river with one bridge for in and out traffic. Cautiously pedaling up the shoulder and sidewalks, we hit the island and it begins: the separation of those who are along for the ride and those who want to see just how fast the rider in front of them really is. Belle Isle is roughly a few miles around and features part of a Formula 1 track, a zoo, a conservatory, and all kinds of people doing all kinds of activities. But for us, it's a race track, miraculously with a head wind all the way around; we jockey for position and drop into pace lines, call out as we pass people, blow past walkers on the path and never look back. At the end we congregate at the zoo, and await those who just carried pace to arrive and get a laugh out of us panting and doubled over. After a quick break for water and snacks we collectively press on.
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