How E-bikes Can Ease Glenwood Springs Traffic on Grand Avenue

The air on Grand Avenue usually tastes like exhaust and impatience, a thick, metallic tang that settles in your lungs by 5 p.m. when the rush hour gridlock turns the main drag into a parking lot. We’ve all sat there, tapping the steering wheel, watching the brake lights bleed red into the twilight, wondering if the universe has a personal vendetta against our ability to get to the grocery store. But what if the solution wasn’t a new highway or a wider lane, but simply the willingness to pedal?

That’s the provocative, counterintuitive argument behind BikeThere! returning on Wednesday, June 24. It’s not just a celebration of Colorado’s Bike Month; it’s a challenge to the assumption that biking is only for the elite, the early risers, or those who live in flat, car-free utopias. The exclamation point in the name is intentional, a shout against the quiet resignation we accept when we say, “I can’t bike to work.”

Consider the data, which feels less like a statistic and more like a secret waiting to be unlocked. In 2021, more than 52% of trips in the United States were less than 3 miles, and 28% were less than one mile. That’s not a commute; that’s a run to the mailbox, a dash to the pharmacy, a quick hop to the Park n’ Ride. If we all shifted just one of those short trips per week to a bike ride, we’d chip away at the congestion that makes locals groan every morning. And if everyone in Glenwood Springs transitioned their short trips around town to a bike ride, Grand Avenue’s 27,000 and increasing average daily vehicles could move 28% faster. It’s a hypothetical, yes, but it’s a hopeful one. You can feel the potential there, like a spring thaw beginning to crack the ice.

I’m not always an avid biker. A year and a half ago, I sold my car and bought an e-bike, a decision that surprised even my friends who knew I hated sweating through my shirts. Before that, anyone would tell you I didn’t like biking — I was slow, and the idea of hauling errands on two wheels seemed like a recipe for disaster. But the electric component changed everything. It allowed me to load my groceries, my dog, or my thrifting finds into a trailer and arrive not sweaty, but simply present. I’ve put almost 1,000 miles on that e-bike and paid one cent in maintenance or gas. I avoid the parking hunt. I avoid the stress.

This isn’t about all-or-nothing heroism. It’s about the creativity of movement. It’s about asking yourself, “Should we BikeThere?” when you’re deciding how to get to the river put-in or the downtown dining scene. One trip a week by bike saves you money, time, and hassle. One carpool saves emissions. One bus ride counts. The beauty of biking, or any alternative to driving solo, is that it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be better than sitting in that same spot on Grand Avenue, breathing in the same exhaust.

If you still struggle to imagine how biking can fit into your life, look at the e-bike journey. It’s not about conquering a mountain; it’s about conquering the inertia of the car. It’s about realizing that the distance between your house and the pool, or your friend’s house, is shorter than you think. And when you finally do take that first ride, when you feel the wind on your face and the hum of the motor beneath you, you’ll understand why we’re shouting about it.

The sun dips lower over the Roaring Fork Valley, casting long shadows across the pavement, and for a moment, the roar of engines fades into the background, leaving only the sound of tires on asphalt and the quiet rhythm of your own breath.