Along for the Ride #214
It's the last newsletter of the year 🖤
Heya friends, happy Friday!
In years past I’ve compiled end-of-year musings reflecting on the past 12 months in mobility, its impact on us all, and some lil chirps about what might come in the next 12. Those of you who were reading along in August know that I lost a close friend that month. In thinking about what I’d write about this year, that loss became the only thing that was top of mind, so if you’ll bear with me, I’m going to turn that Barbie gif into the theme of this week’s newsletter. It’s gonna be a bit sad, but I promise it will end on an optimistic note.
I joke with the gif, but in all honesty 2023 became the year that I thought about death and dying and loss a lot. It’s been a hard year to get through. Not to be a complete downer, but the death I’m about to write about was the first of three losses that entered my orbit this year. 2023 taught me about deep grief—the kind that made me cry spontaneously to strangers who really don’t know me that well—and made my heart hurt for those impacted by loss of any kind.
Before I dive into how freaking wonderful my friend Hansel was, I want to say that the other two losses deeply impacted myself and people I love very dearly. These losses taught me that I can grieve people I knew deeply as well as those I wasn’t as close to. Regardless of how close you are to a person, loss can be profound and confusing and tragic—and the grief doesn’t need to be justified. Before writing this, I spoke with Hansel’s partner and asked if I could share more about what they mean to me here in this space. It’s not to say the other losses weren’t as impactful, but rather to say I think they are somebody else’s story to tell.
Alright, now to introduce you to my friend Hansel.
I can’t remember the precise moment that I met Hansel, which is a frustrating feeling. After their death, I doomscrolled through their instagram, our text messages, and group chats trying to remember the precise moment we met. All I was met with were the most joyful memories of bike rides, picnics, movie nights, and cute pictures of their dog Atlas.
I know that I met Hansel via a variety of biking and advocacy-related activities. Hansel was always at every slow ride; they called into public comments to share their support for car-free streets and advocate for better bike infrastructure. Hansel almost always shared their story of learning how to ride their bike as an adult during the pandemic. During the early days of the pandemic, Hansel took an adult Learn to Ride course with the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition. They were well into their 30s, and took a leap to learn how to ride. Their partner Jerry is a Big Biker™️, and with the car-free streets brought forward by the pandemic, Hansel was ready to join the All-Powerful Bike Lobby.
When Hansel learned how to ride a bike they took the fair city of San Francisco by storm. They had zero interest in being a speedy cyclist, but every interest in beating their records on Strava. I can distinctly remember seeing them on JFK Promenade and having them sail by me on their upright pedal bike only to find me later to share they were sorry they couldn’t stop earlier, they needed to be speedy for the stravs. If you saw Hansel while biking, you saw their smile first and heard their chipper hello second.
The joy that Hansel brought to biking in San Francisco didn’t go unnoticed. This year SF Bike named Hansel their bike champion of the year. They were interviewed by the organization, and you can read the write-up here. My friend Parker also helped make a video to celebrate the award, so if you want to get a feel for who Hansel was and how deeply they cared about their community the following video captures it perfectly (although, good luck not crying).
One particular snippet from Hansel’s interview sticks with me (and still makes me laugh today). When asked about how Hansel brings the joy of biking to their community, they shared:
“One of the challenges I faced when I was first learning to ride a bike, which I still struggle with now at times, is feeling embarrassed or feeling like an impostor, because my idea of a “cyclist” growing up did not necessarily match what I saw when I looked in the mirror.. I now have two bikes (which still shocks me), both of which are step-through, because when I first went to shop for a bike, I was told that “step-throughs are for women” so I said, “f*** that patriarchal bullshit” and got a step-through.”
In late July, Hansel went bike camping for the first time. It was on this trip that Hansel sadly endured an accident that ultimately took his life. I won’t get into the details, but I will clarify: it was an accident. There were no motor vehicles involved, there wasn’t even a pothole to blame. It was sudden and cruel and unfair. However, I will say this: at the time of the accident, Hansel was living their best life. They had a smile plastered across their face, doing something they never thought they’d do even a year earlier, and were surrounded by numerous of their favourite people.
We celebrated Hansel’s life in early August. Their funeral had a bike valet, because even after they’d passed away, Hansel was still doing god’s work for modal shift. When I think of that day, I think of my friend Jay acting as a pallbearer wearing a “Protect Trans Kids” t-shirt (something Hansel would have loved), and I remember looking around to see everybody sobbing. After the ceremony, a large group of friends biked to Ocean Beach at Pacheco to cry and hug each other.
Instead of writing a post about 10 mobility trends from 2023 or projections for 2024, I am going to leave you with a shortlist of things my friend Hansel taught me. Things I try and keep with me:
When Hansel learned how to bike, they had limited confidence it would stick. But it did, and lowkey became part of Hansel’s whole personality. I think the lesson here is it’s never too late to learn a new trick, pick up a new hobby, and let it change your life.
I wish there were words that could adequately describe Hansel’s laugh. It was like a joy-filled jingle that was usually accompanied by Hansel rocking their head back and clapping their hands. And Hansel laughed a lot. I’m grateful for this because their laugh is permanently embedded in my psyche. I don’t think I’ll ever forget its ring. Hansel taught me to take things on the lighter side, laugh at every moment, and let that joy ripple through my body. It’s a lesson I desperately needed this past year.
One of the things that fucked me up the most after Hansel passed was reading through our messages. It was a horrible and sweet combination of messages that read “I love that you exist fwiw” and “we are so cute” and “a d o r b s” and “glad I know you”. If there was one thing Hansel did well, it was to let the people in their life know how deeply they meant to them. They threw caution to the wind and whipped out a good ole “I love you” like it meant everything and nothing. When Hansel passed away, I felt one thing was very certain: they wouldn’t have any unsaid “I love yous” to haunt them. They said it often and they truly meant it.
Hansel took photos of everything. They were constantly capturing the small, beautiful moments of their life, and sharing them with friends. No moment was too insignificant to share. In our current world of hyper-manicured social media pages—of which I absolutely am at fault—Hansel left a very detailed and joyful spread of pictures and memories with us. I can read their words, delight in the joy they experienced, and reminisce on all the adventures we shared. It’s part of why the newsletter’s bits and bobs section has become more personal this year, sharing the small moments of delight. To leave a paper trail of joy wherever I go.
And with that, I will share some more pictures that attempt to capture Hansel’s gift. This was a hard newsletter to write for many reasons, but thinking about what Hansel offered to the community was easy.
I want to thank a few people who were here for me over the past few months while I processed (and didn’t process..) this grief. The people helped me survive these losses, and making this objectively Very Bad Year, not nearly as bad as it could have been:
GoSloYo Run Club: In the days after Hansel passed away, the run club* Hansel and I were both a part of met often, mostly to cry in unison. Having that community of support made a world of difference. Many of the photos you see are from run club friends.
* While this is technically a real run club…. I’d say 75% of participation is from people who bike very slowly lol. Hansel and I were card-carrying members of the bike union.Family + Friends: This one seems obvious, and I am grateful for that. I called a lot of people crying this year (lol), and they all picked up. I am immensely grateful they proactively checked on me, distance and time zones be damned. If I were to list all the names this newsletter would never end, but you know who you are.
Extra shout-out to my friend Tookie who edited this edition when I sent her a text that word-for-word said: “Can I share my newsletter with you for edits? It’s about Hansel, so I don’t think I can edit it without crying (again)”
You: This newsletter became a different kind of vessel for my after Hansel’s loss. Numerous of you reached out offering support and kind words. That meant the world to me and still does. I won’t forget it.
Many people reading this newsletter have experienced similar losses related to transportation. If you’ve experienced loss of any kind, and want to honour somebody them here, please feel free to leave a comment sharing about your person. This community is stupidly nice, and I know that collectively, we can all relate to this loss and support one another.
Please squeeze somebody you love for me extra tight today. Please slide into a friend’s dms with an “a d o r b s” for me and Hansel.
That’s all from me. Have a beautiful weekend friends. I’ll see ya in 2024.
Sarah
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Hi Sarah, thank you for the newsletter this year and also for sharing about Hansel. I feel like I was able to get to know them just a little. So sorry for your loss and condolences to their family. I'll remember them whenever someone new starts biking!
What a beautiful tribute to your friend ❤️