I like bikes. Or, a bit about biking in Manhattan

Can you hear that? It’s the sound of my heart racing. My adrenaline is at an all time high. I didn’t jump out of a plane (never going to happen) or drive a racecar (not much more likely). I just rode a bicycle through the streets of Manhattan for the first time. Oh, and the front brakes don’t work.

I’m going off on a bike trip with some friends tomorrow for the long weekend. We are biking to Jersey across the George Washington Bridge, leaving at 9am to take the “harder but scenic route.” The packing list emailed to the crew today from my friend the organizer whose parent’s house we’re staying at: helmet, an extra pair of underwear, and a smile. Yes, this too will be blogged about.

But for now back to my adrenaline. Following a killer morning workout at Equinox and an hour-long body melting massage (Jack the Masseuse to me: “Your back really is a mess. Take it easy on yourself.”), I literally put myself right into mid-day Manhattan traffic, which I guess wasn’t exactly following Jack the Masseuse’s advice. My boss lent me her old bike for my weekend getaway (May is also National Bike Month, so she was happy to contribute indirectly to the cause) and my supervisor lent me her helmet (clearly they both take good care of me) so I went to the office, which is conveniently across the street from the gym, to gather my adventure supplies. Did I mention we are closed today for a four-day long weekend? Fridays off to ride your borrowed bike are heavenly.


(She needs a helmet!)

So, picture this: I am quite a sight as I hop on the bike in my moderately cute outfit - tight jeans (yeah, sort of forgot I’d be biking when I packed my post-gym bag), gray tank, silver chuck tailors, backpack and awesome helmet (it even has a brim to keep out sun, flying debris and oncoming pigeons). The gears are clicking all over the place as I try to get accustomed to the bike. I did ride it around the office to try it out yesterday, with my helmet on for safety – those FedEx boxes can be hazards! – but nothing could have prepared me for the bustling streets of New York City.

I figured that I should probably bike on 1st Avenue to go up town, completely forgetting of course that 1st Ave. has a huge hill built into it. And once you’ve huffed and puffed up the hill, you then have to go down. Speeding, with honking cars on your left and illegally parked trucks in the bus lane on your right, and no front breaks. Hopefully my mom has stopped reading our blog by now.

I thought I was playing it safe going this way, as there were nice big green signs with bikes on them directing me this way. Then you get on 1st and the signs disappear for a while…was I supposed to cross the FDR to get on the running/bike path which then stops way before the 30s even end? But thankfully, soon after I pass the UN (more on that portion of the trip below), I see another green sign! Yes, someone, somewhere does still care about us bikers – like how after one ride on one day, I’ve proclaimed myself a city biker? The people who care, however, are not drivers. Jerkfaces. Now, I’m more than just a biker. I’m a two-wheeled hater of anything with four-wheels, and I’m ready to stand up and fight for biker rights! Viva bicicletas! Especially when that next green sign I see directs me away from 1st Ave (I live off 1st!) and over to Sutton Place, which turns into York. While it is a more picturesque 20 blocks to my apartment with a view of the River, and I do feel much safer on the quieter avenue, I am totally miffed that we bikers must take the detour and the gas-guzzlers get the luxury of convenience. Tsk, tsk city planners. And, while we’re at it, city planners, the bike lane lines on York are totally faded so no one can tell it is the bike route, especially if they’ve missed the last green sign that was 30 streets back.





All that happened in just 10 blocks.

And as it is happening, this entire inner monologue, pretty much everything you’re reading above and below (if you’re still reading, that is), is running through my head. I even thought to myself wouldn’t it be great if I had a small tape recorder (people still use those, right?) affixed onto the handlebars so I could say all this out loud as it was happening. Then I could transcribe into the blog, or even include an audio link. The experience would be even more amusing and there would be the honks and yells and sirens and dogs barking that would really make our reader feel like they were there. I mean, don’t you want to dodge exploded fire hydrants and downed power lines, too?

Every block and turn is a new adventure (or you might say danger) in itself. Here were just a few of mine this afternoon:
1. Dodging Fluffy or Muffy the white French Poodle with pink ribbons and her similarly attired, oblivious owner as they crossed the street at a molasses-like pace
2. Another biker who swerved out of the way for a car who then moved for a truck who then moved for an ambulance
3. The Casanova construction workers. Because I am simply a living, breathing woman in Manhattan. I think my helmet’s pretty sexy, too, boys.
4. The 15-foot water pipe carried by said construction workers
5. The Free Tibet protest outside the UN
6. The armed guards with those clear plastic shields outside the UN
7. Three NYPD vans and five huge white Asian tour buses outside the UN
8. The old man with the green bowler hat that waved his cane at me hello
9. The old woman with the green house dress that shook her cane at me (think she meant get out of the way)
10. The bottleneck of other bikers who also were too afraid for their lives and the road-raged drives stuck in traffic and had to bike on the sidewalk for the stretch past the Mobil station at 59th and 1st


How come you never notice this much when you’re walking? That would be a much safer way. Yeah, I know, who wants to play it safe all the time?

I believe I have now developed a new camaraderie with the bike delivery guys and I’ve also come to the realization that I need a basket on my borrowed bike. I’m hoping that my boss might like to lend me her bike for the whole summer. I’ll even get the front brake fixed, and get those fun streamer thingies for the handlebars. I’d like pink, orange and white. Or blue. Ooh and a basket.




So while Suze walks around the world for 4 months, I plan to bike Manhattan (ooh and the BK too) and take my own tour of this mini-world – Little Italy, Chinatown, Spanish Harlem, where else should I go??



In the meantime, I’m off (via bike, of course) to a bike shop downtown near Spring St. I don’t know why I had to pick this bike shop specifically, especially since that means biking all the way downtown with one working break, and no reflective light. (Did I forget to mention that it somehow just flew off the bike with no warning about three blocks from home?)

I’ve walked by this bike shop many times, though I still don’t know the name. Maybe I should bike by it to figure that out. The shop is tiny and overflowing with all sorts of bikes. It just looks like a place I want to take my borrowed bike with WD-40 greased on the windows and bike repairman who always have one pant leg rolled up. I’ll let you know how it goes and what color streamers I get…as long as I make it there in one piece.