When learning how to bike as a 10-year-old, I got in an accident with a kid I classify as Satan’s offspring. I still have the ugly scar on my right hand.
Fast forward 13 years, I’ve moved to a small town with shitty bus service and realized the 20 mins walk to campus was 20 mins I could spend sleeping.
I decided to pick old red back up and brush her off. Now I get to school in 1.5 songs.
Like vegans in the first 10 seconds of conversation, I too feel the need to tell people I’m a cyclist. Cyclists are the vegans of transportation.
Don’t get me wrong, I still suck at this. I’m that person who gets off to walk the bike uphill and loses balance when indicating direction. In short: I’m the reason for your road rage.
If you’d told me a month ago that I’d be dodging cars, cabs, cops, and construction, all while trying to navigate a new place without helmets or lights, I’d say you’re right because I’m always down for some new shit. You’re talking to a girl who went diving alone without knowing how to swim.
With travel goggles on, most people want to live a bit closer to the edge. Stupid decisions always birth good stories.
I have got to give it to New York though, they’re not the worst in bike accessibility. According to these guys, they’re the second worse. And I’m okay with that.
The city has a gorgeous bike-only lane by the Hudson and Citi Bikes are stationed on every block. A lot of tourists are opting out of hop-on-and-hop-off buses and seeing the city on two wheels instead.
When we decided to ride from my Midtown Manhattan hotel to the Brooklyn Bridge, it didn’t seem that bad. I got a few honks here, a couple death glares there, but we made it.
The bridge, however, was another story. It was overflowing with pedestrians in the already miniscule bike lane unwilling to move before getting that insta flame. Then we had the toddlers that strayed and their moms flipping me off for yelling “excuse me”.
Regardless, we were now in Brooklyn and could not leave without the famous shot of Dumbo at golden hour. Worth riding on cobblestone and causing semi-severe vaginal damage over.
A friend of mine lives in Jackson Heights and Google Maps told us it’d be 50 mins whether we took the MTA or biked.
We biked. And biked. And biked. And biked. For 12 damn miles in the dark without lights. We got to hers with our quads on fire and our butts imprinted by the seat.
Needless to say, we took the MTA back to Manhattan.
Obviously, humans aren’t good at learning from their mistakes so we biked through Times Square the next morning for the best pizza ever. Again, also worth it. Note: I’m standing. After the assault from the bike seat the night before, sitting was a joke too soon to be made.
What I’m getting at is: use the extra savings from not taking Ubers and busses to stay at a nicer place with a roof like this:
~until next time, folks. xx