Discovery of the bodal wheel and abstraction of Geocentric Design Code as a whole owe much to a very real down-to-earth artifact, one most thoroughly experienced.
My hunt for the perfect bicycle was not guided by any abstract ideas, but rather by comfort, usefulness, and some ill-defined capability, qualities which, having owned road, mountain, and cruiser bicycles in the past, I had never found in one bike. I was about ready to end the search when I stumbled upon a small, previously overlooked shop.
Amid the usual dazzle of shiny metal, I seemed to be drawn to one bike with a strong white triangular frame, and concerning this a voice from the back of the shop proclaimed: “Made in Brazil.” Centered on the top of it, a wide saddle was as comfortable as it looked, and with tip-toed balancing, my feet found blessed relief from the 7 months of walking that characterized a first bout of homelessness. Within a minute, the shop owner invited me to take the 1993 Caloi Pan Am for a spin.
Outside, I pedaled off effortlessly to a sensation of low gliding flight as the induced breeze cooled a sultry Florida Summer morning, and with the easy action of the intuitive coaster brake, I slowed with intention to buy the one speed cruiser. After a period of time adjusting to traffic, a daily routine of work and errands experienced much easing.
On days’ off I rode the bike increasingly further, eventually to an 80 mile ride up and down the coast. Upon recovering, I was ready for the next level, which was not touring exactly but actual relocation with all my possessions sailing 400 miles down the peninsula and across the Everglades in a long hot day’s century to a motel room refusal at nightfall from a Ukranian innkeeper who subscribed to atheism and reverence for the automobile. But I was later able to deem the move a success as I was soon lodged and employed and commuting on my amazing bicycle.
On one day I found myself in a store gazing at a square foot jewel from NASA that portrayed a full earth in space with focus on the western hemisphere and centered by Florida. Marveling how I could discern my recent trek from such a far out perspective, I wondered just how far the bicycle could take me as my eyes roamed to where a mysterious glaciated land mass disappeared over the sphere’s upper left curvature. I made Alaska my ultimate goal.
Starts, struggles, and flops ensued over the next few years, but with them came vital experiences ranging from how to deal with constant in-your-face winds on the Texas coast; observing how hard Gulf dolphins humped and huffed for their food before allowing themselves play; and how to enjoy camping with the minimal amount of gear.
As my appreciation for the bike matured, I wondered why accommodating them architecturally had apparently never been done. As it tirned out, the desire to do so was an essential ingredient to the insight of (celestial) Cube-based Abodes. Although a specific solution for the accommodation was not initially seen, I was confident that, owing to the cubes’ rotation, it was in the style’s geometry, somewhere.
Being high from the insight, another move (to Biloxi, Mississippi) resulted in a situation that enabled me to fund gear, upgrades, and an all-at-once attempt for the last frontier. Armed with a 7-speed coaster brake hub, I viewed the trek as a test ride of a prototypical everyday bicycle for the masses, and I approached the quest with Ghandian “be the future you wish to see.”
I set out on the first day of spring with a goal phrased one continent, one season. For a well-rounded, varietous continental transection, I would start over Atlantic waters a few degrees above the tropics and end below the Arctic circle over Pacific waters – with one mega city (Chicago) in between.
Although I hoped to camp 2 of every 3 nights, I found many parks’ water still shut off; but on the other hand I stayed ahead of the annual migration northwards. After weeks galloping over expansive golden prairies, mechanical problems posed a dark cloud, but with a lucky fix and the right CDs, I was able to keep on going – with a good rhythm.
The Rockies appeared in the distance, and their mysteries, which by tricks of the terrain, were concealed until abrupt views exploded much closer each time. In tip-top shape after 2 months, I grew one with the bike humping over rises and gliding through astounding beauty in days that grew endless. And as ubiquitous spruce forests streaming by grew smaller, I experienced a sensation of growing into the warm clear sky. The longest stretch of sublime beauty was in the Yukon, and then mist-shrouded Mt. McKinley opened up for a most spectacular encore.
From there, we rolled downhill to the end at Cook Inlet 12 hours before the end of Spring, as clouds regathered and drizzly solemnity signaled some undefined interlude.
Emerging from a time subject to what goes up must come down, I found myself refocusing on the architectural accommodation of the bicycle by finding between it and the house a common geometry. To do so, I built a paper model of the cuboda and turned it over and over until finally coming to imagine its centrally interwoven planes. and marveling at how the differing planes angling off one hexagon could only be matched via rotation. Thus was the bodal wheel’s attribute of intrinsic dynamism abstracted.
Later it occurred to me that the 2 halves on either side of the central plane could be naturally slid relative to each other and matched up to mirror each other permanently with a 60 degree rotation. Although the “wheel” thereby lost its dynamism, it dawned on me that this was precisely what was needed for a transport template to guide design of components at rest relative to the forward motion provided by the dynamic wheel. Soon following was the concept of the central plane’s transverse expansion.
As these ideas crystallized, the bike leaned in its space against the wall, its frame roughly attuned to the pattern of triangles. Correspondence between the hexagonal pattern’s innate circles and wheel separation was eerier. Then there came the handlebars’ match-up. On a hunch, after comparing their angles with those of template lines, I found these also concurred!
Its as if this bicycle had been guiding the code all along. Not only had it played a vital role in coming up with cube-based shelter, it had provided all the clues to the bodal wheel essentials and a general template for all rolling transporters. If Geocentric Design Code was unlocked by a key, that key was this bicycle.
Before the 5,000 mile trek to Alaska, the bicycle carried me 10,000 miles and post-trek another 10,000 for a total of 25,000 miles, or one orbit before I returned it to the earth. That the bicycle had been designed as it was is perhaps evidence that code geometry has been followed in a quasi-intuitive way for some time now.