Irene gave my bike a filthy (Photo credit: carljohnson)
- The bus is cheaper. Much. Bus fare: $1.50, and I can carry my coffee in with me. The bike sets me back as soon as I have to buy that first cup of coffee in the morning. There's also the matter of commuting shoes (I am a pedal snob, and need to be clipped in with the ironically named "clipless" pedals), rainpants, winter gloves, and an array of lights designed to confuse motorists enough to notice that I exist. However, my bus is being cancelled, and the nearest one is a 10-minute walk away, so this economic point is moot.
- It is a most unsatisfying ride. In my case, it's under four
miles each way, barely worth the time it takes to prepare. The first half is down, there's a hump over the Dunn Bridge in
the middle, and then a steep climb, all on a heavy bike with a lot of gear I
have to carry back and forth. The Dunn has the charm of a Soviet office block
and detracts from what should be a lovely view of the Hudson. In the dead of
winter I start by freezing and end up in a steam bath of my own making. There are logistics, with packing of lunch, making sure I have phones, carrying all I may need and nothing I don't. After
every ride there are wipes and birdbaths and much changing of clothes.Any road ride is more enjoyable.
- Staying warm is not the problem. I have a neck gaiter, a
helmet liner and good long-fingered gloves, and wear a layer less than if I
were going to take a walk in the same temperature. Staying dry is more of an
issue, and generally if you wear rainproof gear, it rains inside as much as
outside.I now have rainpants that cost more than any dress pants I have ever owned.
- I used to work in a building full of athletes, and getting on the elevator while carrying a helmet and perhaps in bike-friendly clothes (and we're not even talking spandex shorts) did not raise a lot of eyebrows. I no longer work in a building full of athletes, and people go out of their way not to share the elevator with me, even on days when I'm sure I do not offend.
- Rush-hour drivers are in too much of a hurry to fuck with you. So while they won't give you an extra inch to avoid horrible potholes or sunken grates, they're also not inclined to suddenly lay on their horns, lean out their windows and scream, or throw things out their windows. Cyclists are the battered spouses of transportation, and so we interpret a failure to try to kill us as some kind of love.
- Riding somewhere for lunch is a tremendous delight. Being able to get to a place that's not even a mile away but just too far to walk during lunchtime makes an enormous difference in my day, especially if I get to sit outside and enjoy my lunch with my wheels. Thanks to CDTA's bike rack map, I can always find out if there's a place to lock my bike, too.
I am not a better human being because of this. Many days, I ride my bike across the river just to get into my SUV and drive right back over to pick up my daughter from dance class. I know this makes Al Gore cry, and I'm okay with that. I am, however, a happier human being, even after a miserable hot or rainy ride, because I spent an hour riding my bike that otherwise would have just been more time spent in my car. And an hour riding a bike is better than just about anything else.
