Kidical Mass: A Family That Bikes Together (Video)

Video by Jacob Seigel Brielle of Pedal Born Pictures

Editor’s Note: Although this video is outside our typical content, it’s an important story worth highlighting. Beyond loading up and pedaling our bikes on trails, we also ride them to get around town, and we feel strongly that future generations of riders should have the infrastructure, culture, and safe streets that enable them to do the same. Our team is inspired by Kidical Mass’s family-friendly rides, and we’re excited to share this latest release from Pedal Born Pictures. —Lucas Winzenburg

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My relationship with the bicycle has taken many turns over the past 20 years as I journeyed from young adult to parent of three. There was the honeymoon period, the integration, the growing pains. For a time, I even thought I’d have to end things. A question pulled at my heart: could the sense of joy and freedom that drew me to the bicycle translate into family life?

First, there were two of us. We rolled out from home, panniers packed to the brim with camping gear, snacks to share, music bumping from the speaker in Adam’s front basket. We felt that intoxicating thrill of an adventure beginning with the push of pedals, morning sun already warm on our skin.

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The Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) stop was our meet-up spot. As friends arrived, we grew into a motley crew of cyclists stretching, fine-tuning packing jobs, catching up on life. By the time we rolled onto our train, we were 30 strong and quite a sight as we poured into multiple cars with our colorful, overflowing bikes. The train took us out of Berkeley, through Oakland, under the Bay, and finally out again into Daly City, where we hopped off as far west as we could get.

At first, we filled a whole lane, a sea of cyclists taking up as much road space as a few cars. This was a familiar experience—many of us took over the streets on our bikes during rush hour at the monthly Critical Mass rides in San Francisco as an act of resistance against our car-centric culture (plus, it was a great party). By the time we reached the coast, we had spaced out into a single-file line, tracing the curves of Highway 1 with our bike tires, the ocean spilling out below.

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Pacifica is where our favorite part of the journey always began. We turned off the busy highway onto Old San Pedro Mountain Road. No cars, just a dirt trail that led straight up and over the coastal range. We sweat our way up into the cloud of fog, heavy loads in tow, until we gathered at the summit for a feast before our steep descent back to the coast. By the time we reached our Half Moon Bay campsite, we were covered in dust, pleasantly exhausted, and ready to share stories around the fire late into the night.

These group bikepacking trips were the bright spots of our 20s. What began as one small weekend adventure grew into a monthly tradition full of friends who brought friends who brought even more friends. We traveled to destinations all over the Bay Area, from the redwoods of Samuel P. Taylor to the hills of Mount Diablo, to the shores of Lake Chabot. We were fueled by communal trail mix, continuous laughter, and that sense of freedom that comes with moving by your own strength.

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Adam and I wandered our way into our 30s, and as soon as our first child had head control, we strapped them into a bike seat on the front of Adam’s Rivendell. We were determined to keep up our biking lifestyle, now as parents. But the feeling had shifted. Instead of that carefree, invincible attitude that fueled us in our 20s, we suddenly felt vulnerable. The streets were not safe enough for our precious cargo. We chose the quietest routes and rode with vigilance, but we still tensed at each passing car. I connected with local bike advocacy groups like Walk Bike Berkeley and began taking more deliberate actions to help make our streets safer and less stressful.

Then there were five of us. Our garage became a maze of bicycles in every size—a push bike for the littlest, training wheels for the middle, a pedal bike for our oldest, and cargo bikes for both Adam and me. We began to find our balance as a biking family, enjoying our commutes and our weekend adventures. We were choosing a lifestyle that was healthy for our family, our community, and the planet. And we were having fun doing it.

Each morning, I’d say goodbye to my three kids, tucked like sardines on the back of Adam’s Xtracycle as they rode off to school. One morning in February 2024, I got a phone call that made my blood run cold. “We got hit by a car. We are okay. I’m hurt, but our baby is okay.” Adam and our three-year-old had been waiting at a stoplight when a car cut the turn and hit them head-on. The bike toppled over, and our son flew out but was miraculously uninjured. Adam, on the other hand, had taken a direct hit to the knee and couldn’t stand up.

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This incident shook us to our core. Adam was an experienced cyclist, following all the rules of the road—riding on a Bicycle Boulevard, waiting at a stoplight in his own lane. How could this have happened? We knew it could have been infinitely worse, and for that, we were grateful. But what were we to do now? Swear off biking forever? Become a family that only drove cars in fear of ever being hit again? We caught our breath for a moment. As we drove him to school for weeks after the collision, our three-year-old would say, “Careful not to crash into any bikers!” and would show visible fear of cars whenever we walked on the sidewalk.

In time, our nervous systems did recover. My street safety advocacy reached new levels as I met with almost every council member to share our story, canvassed for a new safe streets ballot measure, and was appointed to our city’s Transportation and Infrastructure Commission. Slowly, cautiously, we returned to our bicycles. We wanted to continue the lifestyle we loved and believed in, but we would also do everything in our power to make it a safer choice.

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Just as we were regaining our confidence as a biking family, a new group bike ride was taking shape in our city: Kidical Mass. A nod to the Critical Mass car-culture resistance rides, Kidical Mass also involves taking over the streets on bicycles, but this time in a family-friendly fashion. Planned months in advance, with city council members riding in support and corkers in orange vests protecting every intersection, Kidical Mass allows families to experience riding safely in a sea of bicycles without interacting with cars at all. In a way, it is simple—a joyful party on wheels—but it is also quite a radical reimagining of our streets. Kidical Mass begs the questions: Who are these streets made for, and why? What would streets look like that truly prioritize the safety of children playing and moving through the city?

As I look at the faces of my children as they ride in the middle of the street during Kidical Mass, I see that feeling of freedom and joy that I know so well–the thrill of an adventure beginning with the push of pedals. I think to myself: This is the world I want my kids to experience. Streets that invite connection and community. Streets that are safe enough for families to feel at ease. This is the world I want to help build.

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And so we ride on, humbled, alert, and connected. We continue to dream and advocate for the streets we believe in. Someday, when our kids’ legs have grown a bit longer and their hunger for longer rides peaks, we will pack our panniers full of camping gear and communal snack mix, music bumping from the speaker, and ride up into the clouds on Old San Pedro Mountain Road together.

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