My first car was a minivan, a hand-me-down from my father at age 16. At one point, it sported a duct-tape racing stripe, purple shag carpeting, and "christmas" lights with rotating ornament attachments, among dozens of other things controlled by a home-made switchboard on the dash. That car lost its virginity long before I did.

After years of abuse, it was replaced by another minivan of the same make and model, on which I stenciled in red enamel the word AMBIVALENCE, backwards. It was rather crude, and looked nothing like an ambulance. That car saw me through college.

When I dropped the transmission in 2005 (literally dropped, all over the asphault), I came into my third (and final) minivan, again of the same type, but with a body in excellent condition. With its white hubcaps, white-walled tires and fog lights, I affectionately referred to it as my Rice Rocket, and attempted at every opportunity to assert its 3.3L V6 Mitsubishi. AMBIVALENCE was applied to the hood in custom-cut sign vinyl. The gesture was enjoyed by many, including a couple San Francisco cops.

In Chicago, January 2007, unable to make it back to California for worry of losing the transmission (again), the Ambivalence was sold to a man named Xavier for $700. I traded the cash for a chromoly frame bike, tricked out, and a 72" aluminum trailer from Bikes At Work, 300 lb. weight capacity. This is something that I'd been meaning to do for years, and I doubt I will ever go back to driving.

My Machine.

It has been proposed that the best way to lobby for the broader use of bicycles as everyday transportation and work vehicles is simply to ride your bike where others can see you do it. I hope this is true, and that the transportation paradigm is changing every time someone sees me rolling down the street with a queen-sized futon or full sheets of 4'x8' plywood.