I love Amsterdam. Mention the destination in mixed company and there will undoubtedly be snickers about hazy cafes and the red light district, but what really titillates me are the many modes of transport that the Dutch enjoy. Reaching your destination in Amsterdam can involve any number of wheeled or floating apparatuses. It is also quite flat, so even on trains (all above ground) you can simply identify the destination and aim accordingly. Drive a car if you dare, but the humble bicycle rules the streets of Amsterdam. As far as I’m concerned, that’s pretty great.

The automobile is a wonderful invention, but it has brought with it a slew of unintended consequences here in America - notably heart disease, traffic jams and sports talk radio. Suburbs springing up in the heyday of cheap gasoline didn’t even bother catering to pedestrians or cyclists. ‘To heck with them and their tight clothes!’ For why would anyone ever want to move about in such a laborious fashion?

I happen to live in a community that was designed for Buicks, not bicycles. In a more brazen time, I attempted cycling downtown to work. Instead of a relaxing way to bookend the day, it was a highly dangerous, sweaty and demoralizing affair. The route, a mere six miles, went over both Shades Mountain and Red Mountain. That sounds picturesque, but instead of chirping birds and the smell of fresh air, I was privy to dawn breaking over discount seafood restaurants, Big Lots and a strip club. Though I stuck entirely to sidewalks or designated lanes (thus impeding no one), the occasional driver couldn’t help but lob a comment my way in between drags off their morning cigarette.

Call me a quitter but I gave up on the dream after several attempts. We Chapmans also didn’t up and move to Amsterdam because their words are too long. Aside from infrequent neighborhood pedals (requiring a two hundred foot climb back up), I crumpled into a man who loads his bicycle onto a rack and drives it to places. In what seems in retrospect like a cry for help, I became a self-described “golf-cart person” the same year I turned forty. Concerned friends reached out to see if I was doing okay.

Admittedly, the golf cart did help shift our emphasis more to the journey. Every day for us was so destination-centric (what’s next on the schedule?) that it genuinely helped to make space for meandering. We four Chapmans made a pact to load up as a family after dinner, head down the hill, and simply putter around without an agenda. Our days were noticeably more sociable and pleasant. It was bike-ish.

Then technology offered up a solution to these key problems that have long been a barrier. If you want to safely blend with vehicular traffic and avoid becoming the subject of another angry Facebook post, it’s in your best interest to travel at a reasonable speed. Pedaling that swiftly up the hills around here would be impossible, even for professionals. With the recent advancements in battery science, however, one can now effortlessly ride a bike as fast as Lance Armstrong (in his juicing days) while carrying a case of Budweiser, a golden retriever and a bluetooth speaker blasting yacht rock.

It all felt too good to be true when I started checking prices this past spring. After years considering every costly gram of bicycle purchased throughout my lifetime, I became intoxicated with the idea of what I could accomplish with such a versatile and reasonably-priced machine.

The only question was which ebike to purchase. There was the electrified version of a mountain bike, which would be fun and capable, but not awesome for smooth road riding. I looked hard at commuters, which are the most popular choice. Then a particular cargo bike caught my eye, as did its carrying capacity of a whopping 450 lbs. The promo pictures featured happy families, loaded to the gills with all their stuff and joyously pedaling their way to a picnic or something equally endearing. More than anything I saw giant racks, a huge wheelbase and a butt load of potential. Oh and it was on sale!

The first thing I noticed when my new bike arrived was its sheer size. Conventional bike racks would splinter under her largess. Instead of the attentive riding position I’ve become so used to, the long wheelbase allows me to stretch out a bit. When you hit the throttle and stop pedaling, it almost feels like a motorcycle. Visions of Easy Rider played in my mind, but only the one clip I’ve actually seen.

My maiden voyage around the neighborhood was the stuff of dreams. Waving and smiling like the luckiest idiot in the world, I passed all kinds of curious onlookers. Mr. Rob, a fun neighbor and local pizza magnate, flagged me down to talk specs. We vowed to go for an ebike ride together. Flying back up the hill with ease, I contemplated what standard protocol even is for an ebike ride. With a full battery and a smidge of gumption, the world is your oyster.

Back at the shop, it was business time. Not a moment to waste showing ROI on this beast. With all my accessories firmly affixed and ambitions raised, it was time to make a grocery store run.

The trip is a shade over two miles through the neighborhood. Using the kickstart of our hill, I easily kept the speed limit while descending to the creekside shopping center. A strategic list of groceries had been curated to both occupy every bit of surface area (for the pics) and see how carrying capacity equates to handling on this bike. For those of you who don’t know me personally, I’m a “fill it up to the top” kinda guy. That’s why I grabbed the twenty pound box of cat litter.

With the help of some clever gadgets, I properly secured my cargo and powered up for the return journey. Gravity’s blessings from a while earlier were to be reversed, laying down a substantial gauntlet for what was feeling to be a pretty top-heavy craft. Tentatively, I navigated the parking lot, noting that the steering had a bit more wobble this time around. If there is one thing engineering school taught me, however, is that you can solve a lot of problems with speed and power.

I pedaled with intention but let the motor give me full beans in turbo mode. The sizable hill up past our local High School lay ahead. Normally, I would pop onto the sidewalk for this bit, but there were some kids walking down. As I zipped into view, it appeared as if these youths were marveling at my forward-thinkingness. They had stopped on the sidewalk and several in the group of girls were pointing at me. As it turns out, they were doubled over in hysterics laughing.

I was still rather proud to return home successfully with all goods accounted for. Instead of fearing further ridicule on the mean streets of Vestavia Hills, I found myself even more driven to get back out there. There would be a new goal that I hadn’t even considered initially - embarrassing the hell out of my family.

As weeks passed in splendor and I made short work of the first hundred miles, that idiot grin held steadfast. My radius of exploration expanded, as did the bulk items I attempted to transport (mulch day was next level). At the end of each day, I secretly delighted in Allison’s summary of who texted in to say they saw me, riding my bike, looking like a total goober.

If you see me out there, wave and holler. And yes, I am having that much fun.