An odd thing happened recently. I returned to the Bikeport from my cubicle release program. I parked the Cannonball outside and went in the house. Mandy was getting ready to go to the store so I offered to tag along (we get more junk food when I do). So we headed back out, walked past the CBX and the shed where Kona Lisa was stabled and both of us got into the car without any vocal coordination.
It wasn't until we'd been in the store five minutes or so that Mandy said: "We drove!"
For whatever reason neither of us considered riding. I had even moved the CBX out of the entry area in front of the door before we left.
That's so unlike both of us. We try and always choose the bikes, especially when going to the store which is less than a mile away, and that time it didn't even cross our minds.
It's like I wrote awhile back: the novelty of being a car-lite family and of being committed to choosing the bike first has faded. In a sense it has become second nature. But the second nature of the car must be much more deeply ingrained.
Maybe we haven't really programmed our minds to default to the bike completely. This isn't the first time it's happened to me. I know of a few other times I've been sticking the key in the ignition before I realized what I was doing.
This is not something to fall on our swords over. It just happens. It was very interesting to me though, because sometimes if there is a palpable reason I will choose the car. But this one time there was no reason not to ride the bikes and we just didn't consider it at all.
After we'd gaped at each other about our gaffe we read some labels, bemoaned the inclusion of high fructose corn syrup in everything, and finally we were faced with a decision: do we buy the all organic cereal with some hydrogenated oil or the non-organic cereal made with 100% wind power?
Solution? We buy both and mix them together.