City of Infinite Possibility

On a bicycle, the possibilities and permutations are endless; in a car, they are few.

In 1979, the French film director Bertrand Tavernier was asked by Glasgow’s then Lord Provost why he had decided to film his sci-fi thriller, Mort en Direct (Deathwatch), not in the elegant capital Edinburgh, as one might expect, but in the industrially choked, and high-rise pocked Glasgow.

‘Edinburgh is just so very beautiful’, he answered.

Before the Glaswegian retorted, Tavernier added, ‘Glasgow is so much more than just beautiful. It is dramatic, so very dramatic, later enthusing to the Evening Times newspaper, ‘Glasgow is a city of infinite possibilities. I’m amazed that film companies haven’t flocked here over the years’.

I always remember this when I see a humble bicycle being ridden next to fancy cars. That in the society of the spectacle, in the society of the superficial, where surface is king and appearance everything, what lies beneath is what is important.

The real internal combustible engine is, as the word ‘internal’ suggests, inside. Inside, that is, not some fancy car you have to continually break your back in order to pay off and pay for, but inside your own body. Beware of things that promise to make your life easy, for in a spiral universe of profound circularity, sooner or later that ease will lead to dis-ease, and that comfort to discomfort.

On a bicycle, the possibilities and permutations are endless; in a car, they are few.