The Obama Campaign's Secret Weapon

I rode my fixie all over town today, hand-delivering flyers with the specifics of how and when to vote to the homes of registered Democrats. Today marks the very first time I've ever volunteered in an election campaign. A really good day for a couple of different reasons.

Back when I used to work at the shop, my bicycle commute was reliably the best part of my workday. Early mornings I'd generally flirt with sloth and crankiness, but once I was sitting on my bike with shoes clipped in and iPod wailing, I'd get superhero powers. I felt fierce and fast and agile. I got to push hard on my mean and lean and classy bike. I felt like all the important parts of my brain were awake and alive. And then I'd arrive at work and realize that the destination was most certainly not part of the journey anymore. Since then I've missed that ride. I've missed being a superhero.

I walked into the Obama office today with a bit of trepidation. I was worried they'd laugh at me when I said I was a new volunteer. That they'd be like, nice of you to show up the DAY BEFORE the freaking election. That they'd say all the important work has already been done by more worthy people than myself (which is actually probably true) before making me sit on a stack of phone books in the corner and cold-calling old people. So you can imagine my delight when I was handed a bunch of flyers and was told to go forth and deliver them to Democrats, and, whatever I do, to make sure I don't litter. I still kind of felt bad about the flyers, though, and felt a little shady stashing my bike in the bushes and slipping political junk mail onto Democrat doorknobs. Then I actually read one of the flyers. Good stuff, really. I was giving these people info on where specifically their precinct should go to vote. I was telling them what kinds of ID they need to bring and what their rights are as voters. That if they're in line to vote and the polls close, they'd better keep standing in line until they've voted for whoever they want to vote for. That they have the right to vote even if they have unpaid bills or parking tickets. I started to feel pretty good about what I was doing. I started smiling at people I passed. I got to tell an old lady that, if she didn't have a ride to the polls, the Obama campaign would find her a ride. Heck, I told her I'd give her a ride myself, and I wouldn't even make her ride on the handlebars.

I'm back at it tomorrow. This time for at least eight hours. I will be fierce and fast and just a teeny bit relevant. A little tiny newborn fragile activist on a superhero bicycle. I'll be leaving my cynicism at home tomorrow. See you at the polls.