Nobody should have been taken aback on Saturday to see some 150 stripped loins wheeling past Exhibition Place.
It was at Coronation Park, just outside the Princes’ Gates, where Toronto participants in the eighth annual World Naked Bike Ride bared down and headed downtown to protest automobile pollution and the dangers cars pose to cyclists everyday.
Call it the Tour de No Pants. Taking place in 70 cities in 20 countries, the WNBR is billed as “THE global protest against oil dependency.”
“I do it because I’m horrified by Stephen Harper’s obscene gutting of environmental legislation,” says Leif Harmsen, one of the event’s informal organizers. “And one of the most wonderful things you can do is ride around this wonderful city feeling the wonderful breeze.”
The ride is the perfect combination of fun, sun and buns, says Sabina Snow. She joined in as part of a group of seven from Bare Oaks Family Naturist Park near Gwillimbury.
“We just like being naked and we like to encourage nakedness,” she explains. “Free your body; free your mind.
“We also like to encourage environmental awareness.”
Friends Gene Dare and John Glennie have a laugh when asked how they think Toronto Mayor Rob Ford feels about the event, considering his views on bikes, cars and naked people in public.
“We’re on the City of Toronto website so it’s sanctioned, even if he doesn’t know about it,” says Glennie, describing the poster for this year’s event, a city archival photo of a naked ride in the Don Valley … in 1912.
“It’s our 100th anniversary,” adds Dare. “Back then men didn’t wear bathing suits when they swam in the Don.”
Today, nobody rides completely bareback.
Sunscreen, shoes and socks — and, to be extra safe, a helmet — are necessary to ward off both a burn, brain damage and a brush with the law.
But some riders also wear wigs, masks, clown noses, body paint and other disguises to avoid exposure.
“Edward,” who is covered in body paint styled to look like stained glass, is one rider who prefers to be a private member.
“I came last year and took photos and decided to come back,” says the Syracuse, N.Y. native. “But I also like wearing body paint.”
Which, what with all the gawkers who showed up in the park to bear witness with high-powered cameras, might help cloak one’s identity.
But, as the cyclists streaked past City Hall, Queen’s Park, Bloor’s Golden Mile and beyond, they didn’t show any embarrassment.
They just showed everything else.
And, to surprised onlookers’ cheers and whistles, they answered with a ringing of their bicycle bells.
Ding, ding, ding … dong
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