I don’t like flying. Or driving. I’ve always ridden. I think I’ve mentioned before that I’ve owned a car for seven years of my life only. The rest of my adult life, I’ve ridden a bike to get around. Indeed, just three weeks ago I became car-less again. I really do prefer it. My tendency to attract parking tickets means it’s a particularly expensive habit. In fact, cars have always felt like way tooooo much collateral.
I landed here in New York a week ago (boy, it feels longer!), jetlagged to …Frankston (or some other end-of-the-line zone), and a waitress with leg tattoos said to me,
“We are not meant to travel faster than horseback.”
Or pushbike. The Ayurvedic tradition teaches this. Our cells are meant to move at a gentlemanly pace. At a pace that our breath can keep up with, I think.
My first day here I signed up for the Citibike scheme. I did the same in Paris last year. And Copenhagen. Do you know how it works? You insert your card. It costs $25 for a week for unlimited peddlies. You can pick up a bike pretty much every second block. You dart from spot to spot. It’s all above ground with fresh air in your hair. I don’t have wifi here (the dumb expense! the dumb expense!). So I look up my destinations for the day on Google Maps using the hotel wifi (or Starbucks’). Using the “bike” icon I get an exact map of where to go, timed to the minute, and download it on my phone. And on I ride, door to door.