How by bicycling, we break into the speed of discovery | Jimmy Hallyburton | TEDxBoise

"There's more to life when you start decreasing its speed." On a bicycle, destinations become journeys in which you connect to and are influenced by the surrounding environment. For some people, riding a bicycle is a choice, for others it is there only transportation option; regardless, there is more to it than to reach a destination. What you don't expect are the connections in between.

Jimmy spent most of his childhood exploring the Boise countryside on hand-me-down bicycles. With two wheels below and open roads in the distance, he discovered the freedom, opportunity and independence a bicycle can bring. After high school, Jimmy hit the open roads again, traveling all over the country fighting wildfires for the Idaho City Hotshots. With a Mass Communications degree from Boise state University and absolutely no experience in the nonprofit sector whatsoever, he launched Boise Bicycle Project. Nine years later, the project has been voted Boise's Best Local Nonprofit Organization six times, and has recycled more than 10,000 bicycles back onto the streets of Boise.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

Before we get started, I want you
to look at this picture for a few seconds.

You probably don't know this girl,

but maybe there's something
about this picture that looks familiar,

maybe it even triggers some memories.

I'm going to give you a few more seconds.

We'll come back
to this picture in a little bit.

Hi, my name is Jimmy Hallyburton,
I'm 34 years old,

and I've spent most of my life
on a bicycle.

When I was 25 years old,

I started a non-profit
called the Boise Bicycle Project

with the mission to make bicycles,
bicycle repair and bicycle education

available to the entire community
regardless of income.

Now at the time, I had no nonprofit
experience whatsoever.

I barely even knew what a non-profit was.

But I had discovered something
along my own 25-year pedal-powered journey

that I needed to share,

something that I believed, could transform
the community that I love.

That's what I'm here to do again tonight:

share that journey, share those
discoveries that I made along the way

and show us how a familiar
and very specific speed

might be able to connect us all
a little bit in the process.

In 1905, Arthur MacDonald
became the first person

to travel 100 mph in a car,
which is pretty impressive for 1905.

But does anybody
really think that 100 mph

is a speed that connects us
to our community?

No.

In 1947, Chuck Yeager
became the first person

to break the speed of sound -
about 767 mph in a plane,

still not that community-connecting
speed that I'm looking for.

But in 1986,
the little kid in this picture -

not my sister holding the bike,
the one with the cowlick, that's me -

pedalled out of my driveway
for the first time

and broke into the speed of discovery,

probably about 10 to 12 mph,
so not quite as historically significant

as Chuck or the dude with the glasses,
but to me, it was a big deal.

And I distinctively remember
pedalling out of that dirt driveway,

turning on to the road and feeling
like my entire world had expanded.

Maybe some of you have similar
memories as a kid on a bicycle.

In fact, there's a word that most people
associate with that memory.

The feeling of that little Huffy,
BMX, cruiser banana seat,

whatever it was you rode as a child,
there was a feeling that bicycle gave you.

Anyone know what word I'm looking for?

Freedom - oh geez, good job!
"Freedom," that's the word.

So, let's look at this picture again.

This is Fahara,
a six-year-old girl from Syria,

just seconds after riding out of the door
from the Boise Bicycle Project

on her very first bicycle.

Look at Fahara's face.

You can see the world
expanding in her eyes,

and you can almost feel the freedom
that she's experiencing.

When I see this picture,
it makes me smile

and makes me feel
really connected to her,

because I've been this kid
and I've had that look.

Judging by a few of your smiles in here,

I think some of you have been
this kid too - especially you right there.

When Fahara left our doors,

she entered into a world
of limitless possibilities.

And on two wheels,
moving at about 10 mph,

she has suddenly connected to all of them.

I wish you could have seen
everybody's smiles a second ago.

When I left my driveway at Fahara's age,

I don't think I stopped
pedalling for 12 years.

I don't know if I realized it then,
but my bicycle was building

a deep connection
between me and my community

which was my neighbourhood at the time.

I knew every nook and cranny
of that neighbourhood.

I knew all the shortcuts
to my friend's house,

every single jump along the way,

which dogs you could stop and pet

and which neighbor's dogs you had
to pedal like hell to get away from,

and I loved every single second of it.

When I was 14 years old,
I remember riding my bicycle

to the Starr County Fair to see
my girlfriend - don't tell my mom.

(Laughter)

And after the fair was over,
we were sitting on a swing set,

my bicycle was leaning against the pole
and I grabbed her swing,

pulled her closer,
and we kissed for the first time -

my very first kiss,
and I'll never forget it.

Then, there was the ride home that night.

There was this beautiful sunset,
the wind was at my back ...

It definitely felt like
I was going faster than 10 mph,

and as the wind passed by, I could taste
the sensation of freedom on my lips -

strawberry Chapstick, in case anybody
is wondering what freedom tastes like.

(Laughter)

When I turned 16 years old,
I got my driver's license,

a 1981 Toyota Corolla, and I felt
like my world had expanded again.

But the more I spent time
behind the wheel,

the more dust my bicycle
collected in the garage.

Although I can now travel 75 mph

if I had that little
Toyota Corolla floored,

my world was beginning to change focus,

a little bit less
on the community around me,

and a little bit more
on my own isolated circle.

I realize it now,

but my journey had become
solely focused on the destination.

There was a point A, the beginning;
a point B, the end;

and this big blur in between.

Maybe some of you
have experienced that blur before.

In fact, maybe you experienced
that blur on your way here today.

What do you think your average speed
was on the way here?

Twenty miles per hour to 45 mph,
that's the speed limit.

We could go five miles over that, right?

No. That's a trick question.

So let's say 35 mph.
Here's another way of looking at that.

Fifty-one feet per second.

Fifty-one feet.

That's the blur that I'm referring to.

A couple of years later,
I remember waking up late for college,

and my car was stuck
two blocks down the road.

Maybe some of you experienced that too.

With no other option, I grabbed
my bicycle and I started pedalling.

And I'll never forget this ride
because about two minutes in,

I was in a rush, but the world
seemed to suddenly slow down.

I remember taking a deep breath,

and I could feel the air
reach all the way down to my toes.

I started looking around, noticing houses,
businesses, parks I'd never seen before.

I had travelled this road
hundreds of times,

but all of a sudden it was different.

At one point, I passed a group of kids

walking and laughing
on their way to school.

I remember hearing
the birds in the trees,

and it was like
I hadn't heard it in a long time.

Then, I passed a horse and a pasture
on the side of the road - this is Idaho -

and the wind was blowing through its mane.

I reached up and I felt my own hair,
it was a little longer at the time,

and I wasn't wearing a helmet.

And I had this moment with this horse,

where I was like, "This horse and I
really have a lot in common!"

(Laughter)

You can laugh, but at that moment
I was rediscovering my journey.

All of a sudden, there was more to my path
than a beginning and an end.

There was an entire community,
thousands of points in between,

and I had been missing most of them.

You see, in my car, my world had expanded
in distance but not in depth.

But back on two wheels at about 10 mph,
I broke back into the speed of discovery

and my connection
with the community began to grow.

Every inch that I travelled,
it felt like I was falling in love.

When that love could
no longer be contained,

I started the Boise Bicycle Project.

And when hundreds of people began
to show up to get their hands dirty,

I realized this journey
I'd been going on,

this life-changing discovery
that I thought I had made, wasn't my own.

This was something that had transformed

and was transforming the lives
of countless others across the country.

This was 2007, so financially, things for
a lot of folks weren't going very good.

But all of a sudden there was a huge spike
in the amount of people riding bicycles.

Maybe it was because of lack of funds,

but those numbers
have not gone down yet today.

I think what people were discovering
as they got on their bikes

was something just as valuable,

something that, I believe,
we're all looking for in this room today,

a need and a desire for connection.

I've been working at the Boise
Bicycle Project for about 10 years,

and I've been part of a team
that has fixed and distributed

over 12,000 bicycles
back onto the streets of Boise,

including 5,000 bicycles to kids who
maybe never would've had their own bicycle

or the feeling of freedom
and opportunity that come with it.

(Applause) (Cheers)

Thank you.

And that makes me feel really proud,
and it makes me feel really lucky.

One of the luckiest things I get to do
is work with the refugee community.

These are people, families,
from all over the world

who have seen and experienced things
that I can't possibly imagine.

But when you put them on a bicycle,
the look in their eyes,

the smile on their faces,
it's the same as mine,

the same as yours, the same
as this little boy from Sudan,

and the same as Fahara,
the little girl from earlier.

That makes me wonder,
what is it about riding a bicycle

that connects us in such an interesting
way, connects us to our community,

and even connects us to a family
on the other side of the world?

Gandhi once said that "There is
more to life than increasing its speed."

I'd actually add: "There's more to life
when you start decreasing its speed."

That's the speed of discovery
I've been talking about,

that 10 to 12 mph
average speed of a bicycle

that not only allows us
to observe the world around us

but to interact and engage
with everything and everyone,

between point A and point B.

The other day I was driving my truck -
I still drive sometimes -

and there was a homeless person
standing on a corner with a sign.

To be honest, I don't even
know what that sign said,

because I started having this ridiculous
dialogue going on in my head.

"Should I make eye-contact?
Should I not make eye-contact?

Should I say something?
Maybe I'll make a bit of eye-contact

but act like I'm really focused
on my driving,

maybe even so focused,
that by the time I pass him,

he'll be impressed with
how focused I was on my driving."

This ridiculous conversation going on
in my head, I knew it was ridiculous,

because a week earlier,
I had been at that same intersection

with that same homeless person,
he might have been holding the same sign.

Only this time, I was on my bicycle.

You know what I did?

I said, "Hey, how is it going?"
without even thinking about it.

When we're not separated
by the shell or a bubble,

or the speeds that come with a car,

our journey suddenly
becomes a very human experience,

and our interactions become a little
more real and a little less ridiculous,

maybe a lot less ridiculous if you're
talking about me in that conversation.

By the way, this is Gandhi on a bicycle.

(Laughter)

So, a few months ago, I rode my bicycle
down to the Women's March,

and I was surrounded by 6,000
passionate women and men.

It was snowing hard that day, wet snow,
and everybody was cold and drenched,

but there was this incredible energy
going on in the air.

At the end of the march, I had made
a sign and it was looking pretty rough.

So I rolled it up, stuffed it into
my bike basket and started pedalling home.

I got to an intersection,
and this minivan pulled up next to me.

I could tell that the passenger
was staring at me, so I looked over,

and it was an older man
with Down Syndrome.

He's looking back and forth
between me and the sign on my bicycle.

So I smiled, I waved,
and I looked forward again.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eyes,
I could see them waving frantically.

I looked back and he was pointing
down at the sign in my basket.

Then he reached down
and he held up a sign of his own.

It said, "I march for equality."

I gave him a big thumbs up,
he gave me an even bigger thumbs up,

and then they drove away
and I almost lost it.

It was an emotional day already,

but on the corner of Main
and Broadway, I started to breakdown,

because I could not comprehend
the interaction that had just taken place.

It was very quick. It was very simple.

But I've never felt so lucky to be cold,
wet and vulnerable

and completely accessible on my bicycle.

I'm not against driving; I told you
already I still drive sometimes,

but most of the time, I choose to ride.

I know that when I ride,
it brings me closer to you,

closer to the community that I love
and closer to all of the kids

that I've helped donate
bicycles to over the years.

I know this because there's a phenomenon
in bicycling called "safety in numbers."

It means the simple act of riding,
just one extra person on the road,

creates awareness for every
driver that sees them.

That makes it safer for everybody
who might be riding that day

and even the next.

I think that that's magical,

how riding our bicycles not only
connects us to our community

but helps us build a stronger and safer
community for everyone else in the process.

If we wanted to take that further,
it means that when we - you or I - ride,

we're making it safer for the 5,000 kids
who might be riding to school

on Boise Bicycle Project's bicycles.

And each of those kids
are making it safer for us.

And I think that that's an amazing
connection to have.

I want to leave you with one last story,
and this time it's not my own.

To get a bicycle
from the Boise Bicycle Project,

every kid has to draw a picture or write
a story about their dream bicycle.

They give us their height, age,
two favourite colors,

and then we use this information
to create the perfect bike for them.

When we give these bikes
to the kids, they always say,

"This is exactly like
the picture that I drew!"

and bicycles are pretty hard to draw,
so that's not always true!

(Laughter)

But we sure do our best.

This is Andrew McCormick's drawing
from a couple of years ago,

and a really good one.

And he also gave us a story.

"I would like to have a bike to ride,
I do not have one to ride.

My cousin has a bike to ride
and can go everywhere,

but I cannot go with him,
because I do not have one.

My nana is raising me
and doing all she can,

but she do not have money for a bike.

I have coins I have saved
and will give them to help.

All of my friends have bikes
and I cannot go and feel sad.

I would be so happy to have a bike,
I do not care about color.

I would be thankful just to have one.
That is all I want for Christmas.

Andrew McCormick."

So this is Andrew,

and this is the dream
bicycle that he drew.

And you are damn right
that I got my picture taken with him

before he rode away with bright eyes,
a big smile, at about 10 mph.

What does that mean for us here tonight,

me, you, the people
who might be watching or listening?

It means tomorrow morning,
we're going to wake up,

and our day will be full of choices
and opportunities to slow things down.

And maybe you'll reach for your car door,
and decide to ride your bicycle instead.

That's actually what I want to challenge
everyone here to do tonight.

Just one time next week,
look at the weather forecast,

choose the nicest day of the week,
and go for a ride.

It doesn't matter what clothing
you're wearing, what bicycle you have,

and if the distance is too far,
stick your bicycle in your trunk,

drive halfway and start pedalling.

A couple of minutes in,
I want you to take a deep breath,

and I want you to think
about Andrew and his dream bike.

I want you to think about Fahara
pedalling her bicycle to school.

And I want you to think about the freedom
that your bicycle gave you as a child.

Now look, listen and feel
the world around you.

At this point, you'll have broken back
into the speed of discovery.

You'll be connected
to all of those people,

and you'll be connected
to a beautiful community in between.

Thank you for riding
on this journey with me tonight.

(Applause) (Cheers)