Yesterday I was riding the 1 train home from Soho. At Canal Street the train came to an abrupt halt. I sat in the train car for several minutes waiting for the inaudible announcer’s voice to come on attempting to explain why we were staying put. No such announcement came. I made an executive decision to exit the the train and find an alternate route home.
Upon exiting the train, I found myself on the corner of Canal Street and 6th Avenue. I literally turned myself around in a complete circle, confused as to what to do next. Then I spotted a row of bikes that looked like this:
Citi bikes! I felt a surge of excitement ignite within me. All at once I pulled out my debit card, swiped it and I had a numeric code that promised to give me access to a bike. The only problem was I couldn’t get the code to work! Luckily, a man walked by who was returning his bike. He assisted me in getting a replacement code and I was able to unlock my prize: a bike!
I had a bike in my hands. It cost me $9.95 and I was ready to rock and roll and ride over the Brooklyn Bridge.
I got onto the bike, and I immediately felt a sense of freedom surge like electricity through my veins. I didn’t need the subway, I could get myself home. It brought me back to being 15 years old when I rode a bike 150 miles from Connecticut to Rhode Island on a camp biking trip. We stayed in the basements of churches along the way.
I pedaled my way down 7th Avenue and onto Worth street. I cut off many city buses, like a boss. I felt free, invigorated, the wind blowing my hair back as I rode. I pedaled my way onto the Brooklyn Bridge, sweat dripping down my face, breathing heavily.
I stopped half way across the bridge to rest and admire the view of the East River. Then I continued over the bridge, my eyes focused straight ahead. I felt like a nomad, displaced from home, but knowing that I would find my way back there.
As I rode down hill, adrenaline rushed through my body and I let my feet sit on the pedals, coasting down to Boerum Place into the land of Brooklyn.
I soared down Atlantic Avenue, scaring some tourists, causing one woman to exclaim “Whoa, miss!”
I arrived at Dean Street and 4th Avenue where there was a Citi Bike docking station. I docked my bike into it’s parking place. I was dripping with sweat, but I felt amazing. I soared, I was free, I conquered the Brooklyn Bride.
I climbed a mountain.