It’s the mantra of
many bike commuters.
But this time, not so
much.
I usually embrace even
the gritty bits, admiring the symmetry of a neatly laid brick sidewalk, or the exaggerated
color on a wall of graffiti. But this time I got stuck behind a noisy,
exhaust-spewing construction vehicle on Ft. Totten Drive, passed several smelly
trash trucks near the “transfer station,” aka the dump, and wound my way through
streets dotted with orange cones and construction crews. There was one bright
spot: when I stopped to check my tires, which were click-click-clicking after I
rode through some broken glass (and yes, I pulled out a shard of glass I was
lucky didn’t pierce the tube), a friendly biker stopped to see if I was okay,
and we wound up riding together for a while, talking about puncture-proofing
tires (he lines his with deflated extra tubes that fit between the inflated
tube and the tire itself) and generally chit-chatting the ride away.
Biking is like that:
some days it is all trash trucks and broken glass. Other days it is pleasant,
park scenery and friendly encounters with unexpected companions. Sometimes it’s
a mix. Either way, you wind up at your destination – and it’s still healthy!
Time-efficient! And free!
Today, I took the bike
to the metro station, then hopped on the train. I avoided the yarmulke-wearing
guy who reads from what I am guessing is the Torah under his breath – that
feels like such a private act and I thought I might be distracting to him – and
instead sat next to the woman who was practicing Japanese letter-characters in
what looked to be a child’s workbook. I am hoping I’ll get a seat on the crowded
ride home. Because, like biking, metro can be many things: a slog through a
jostling, surly crowd, an curious sojourn with a car full of interestingly
diverse fellow travelers, or a mix of both.
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