Another introduction in our series on new board members. Welcome Connor!
During my gap year in 2022-2023, I immersed myself in the world of bicycles—repairing, selling, and buying them. I toured Lincoln’s trail network and explored infrastructure policy through advocacy with BikeLNK, membership in the Pedestrian/Bicyclist Advisory Committee, and an internship with the League of American Bicyclists. While I didn’t grow up in Lincoln, my family relocated here in 2017 when my father, who works for Ameritas, received a promotion. Moving halfway through my junior year of high school, I finished my studies at Pius X, all the while noticing the peculiarities of Lincoln’s infrastructure. I often observed the far offset sidewalks along Highway 2, the bridge over the intersection at 27th Street, and the oddly placed traffic signal on 84th Street, wondering what role those features played in the fabric of our city.
My transition into the city was gradual. Though we brought my bike with us—a chromed-out Mongoose BMX that was too big for me and my brother’s originally—I didn’t start riding in Lincoln until the fall of 2022. That year, I began to reflect on the bicycle’s role in urban life. It wasn’t until after graduation from the University of Cincinnati in the spring of 2022, that I reconsidered my avoidance of biking and how bicycling could transform public spaces. A bike ride with a friend in Cincinnati’s hills showed me the power of infrastructure designed for cars, cyclists, and pedestrians, and I realized that biking could be a transformative way to engage with cities.
Later that same month, another friend and I embarked on a research trip funded by the University of Cincinnati to study John Kenneth Galbraith’s archives in Boston. We traveled across the country, making effective use of local transit and bicycle rentals to navigate each city. On our first day in Boston, I broke my phone, and without it, I had to rely on a list of addresses and other people in the city to find a map. After several failed attempts, I learned that I could get one at the Boston Common Visitor Center. After struggling to use my card—which I later learned was an invalid form of payment because it was a temporary debit card—to rent a bicycle to travel there, I spotted someone wearing a University of Cincinnati jacket. I explained my situation, and to my surprise, they helped me. That moment crystallized for me what the bicycle truly represents—it’s more than just a mode of transportation: it fosters connections and strengthens communities.
This experience, combined with my ongoing work in bicycle advocacy, has inspired me to apply for a position on the board of BicycLincoln. Lincoln is at a pivotal moment. The work that began forty years ago, when Elaine Hammer and her colleagues purchased the MoPac trail, is finally reaching fruition, and the prospect of a city with reduced car traffic is within reach. As a 24-year-old, I find this extremely exciting. Nebraska lawmakers often wonder why people are leaving the state, but they rarely reflect on whether their own actions might be contributing to the brain drain. Here in Lincoln, we face challenges with our transient student population, but we have a city government that is genuinely committed to investing in the things that improve daily life. For me, one simple yet powerful investment is the bike.
