“I’m a husband and a dad. Two thirds of my day is spent being that character. It’s a huge part of my identity and why I pursue things I do. I’m interested in questions my son asks me, like, “Why do animals fight? Why do you have to leave us to go on the road?””

When we cut off access to certain parts of our cities to people on bikes or in wheelchairs, we’re not only doing economic damage, we’re also doing culture damage.

I’m interested in questions my son asks me, like, “Why do animals fight? Why do you have to leave us to go on the road?” Everything he asks gets me thinking.

New York is the culture capital of the world because people are running into each other on the street all the time. They are forced to engage in creativity and problem-solving.

It’s funny, people often ask me, “Why do you do bike tours where it takes three times the effort and you make one-third of the money?” My answer is that I’m trying to do it ethically. What does that mean, exactly? That conflict is a big part of my art.

But that would put me on a path that would make me totally divergent from who I am. I don’t have to go through the heartache many other people go through, of figuring out what makes them “wealthy.” I know what brings me joy.

There are not a lot of paths through the woods for someone who sings, plays the cello, and wants to tour on a human scale and create change in the world. I’m on my own path. It’s pretty awesome.

I’m definitely musician and storyteller. But I always like to take an active role in things I care about socially and environmentally.

The reason I make art is because I get to make a choice about who I am, what I do, and what I put out into the world, the footsteps I leave behind.

You pull into the venue, check into the cheap hotel you can afford, eat whatever is there, sleep, wake up, and repeat. You’re not really participating in the community.

For every show that we do, anyone that rides public transit, bikes, or walk, we offer them a $5 voucher at the merch table. It gets people using the infrastructure in the area.

I’m a husband and a dad. Two thirds of my day is spent being that character. It’s a huge part of my identity and why I pursue things I do.

I felt like I was cheating myself of those communities and cheating the audience because I wasn’t able to know them. That’s what the bikes did, without me having to put any arbitrary philosophy on what it was supposed to be. It enabled human connection.

Hopefully, the venues where we play will lobby city council and say, we need bike paths, sidewalk repair. That stuff affects so many people’s lives.

Cities like Portland, Seattle, and Long Beach, which have made these investments in their infrastructure, are seeing not only health advantages, but also a lot more exchange in the community, which leads to better policy-making and stronger communities.

I’m in a position I never imagined I’d be in as a musician. Bob Dylan built an audience through recording and live shows. The opportunities for an artist today are totally different.

I feel really passionately about safe, comfortable roads, crosswalks, and sidewalks. Everyone of all economic backgrounds should be able to get to school or the grocery store safely and efficiently so they can live better lives.

Those dads that go off to Florida and start a new life, I couldn’t imagine that: seeing my kid once every Christmas, every three years. If I’m gone for six days it feels like too much

When you have kids, you instantly feel that you do not want to do them wrong. .

I’m an actor, paid to act. I don’t bring personal problems to the sets. Dad taught me that.

It is a sad commentary of our times when our young must seek advice and counsel from ‘Dear Abby’ instead of going to Mom and Dad.

One day that same year, I told my dad that someday, I would sail around the world alone.

I’m one of five kids and we lived on a massive farm in New South Wales with my mum and dad.

My dad was so much fun growing up.

I think I discovered my first, you know, my first image of a naked woman was sort of sneaking a peek at one of those magazines that was in my dad’s store.