Ah, biking in Manhattan. There's nothing like it. Thank God.
Well, OK, it's not as bleak as that. Sure, the cars in the street all want to kill you. Sure, you're breathing in smog with every breath. Sure, idiot dog-walkers will wander directly into your path with four dogs on extendable leashes on a blind downhill curve. (Just happened to me two days ago. We almost had Grouchy-Retriever Fricassee on Harlem Hill). And as you'll read below, someone may just throw a rock at you.
But on the other hand, where else would you ride a couple of miles with a guy on a unicycle? (He was kind of hot, too, if any of you ladies were wondering.)
I rode up behind him at the bottom of the park, and said "Hey, cool ride!" as I passed. A couple of minutes later, he caught up to me -- he was damn good on that thing! I clocked him at 16 mph going up Cat Hill, which struck me as impressive. Anyway, we chatted about cycling and unicycling for a bit, and whether I would or would not immediately topple over if placed on a unicycle (I would), before I went on my way and he continued at a more leisurely pace.
Great, huh? But then some asshole threw a rock at me from a hiding place on Harlem Hill. I am beginning to hate Harlem Hill for reasons that have nothing to do with its slope. It appears to be Asshole Central. Anyway, the rock hit me low down on the left hip (left a cut and a raised welt), and the surprise came close to knocking me over. I suppose it's lucky I had a helmet on, or the asswipe probably would have aimed at my head. I ended my ride after that loop, two short of the ride I'd planned, but I kind of lost that happy-go-lucky feeling after that incident.
And in case you rollerbladers thought your life was all sunshine and roses, think again. Yesterday, I was going for a little run (more like an amble, really), and was heading down a quite steep, narrow curving path in Riverside Park that takes you under the West Side Highway, from the upper portion of Riverside Park to the lower portion. Now personally, I always take this path extremely carefully, whether riding, running or walking. Even if you could be guaranteed that no other creature would be on it, it's steep, narrow, and curves sharply and blindly. And the fact is, it's two way, with baby carriages and bikes and pedestrians and dogs and rollerbladers going both ways. I've seen more than a few accidents there.
Anyway, the rollerblader sliced by me, as roller bladers will, with that ha-ha-ha-I'm-on-rollerblades smugness that so many rollerbladers have. Down he zoomed to the sharp left turn at the bottom, which leads to the tunnel under the highway. A pedestrian emerged from the tunnel, a perfectly foreseeable incident, but it apparently surprised the rollerblader. He lost control and went smashing into the metal guardrail at top speed. Yow. On the other hand, if the guardrail hadn't stopped him, he would have gone right into the street, where cars were swiftly exiting the highway.
Of course the pedestrian and I raced over to help him. He was badly cut on the knees, legs, hands, arms, and elbows, and he's going to be one bruised dude, but luckily he didn't seem to have broken anything, and he also seems to have avoided hitting his head badly. We got him on his feet (he had to remove his rollerblades -- he said he didn't think he could manage to blade home), offered to call for help or walk him home (he declined), made sure he was able to walk (he could), and at last we let him limp home in his socks, carrying his rollerblades.
Sometimes I think it's time for me and my bike to leave New York. But on the other hand, I would miss the unicyclists.
