Meet: Alice

I am a biker now.

Or rather, I now own a bike.

 

I have quickly realized that these two statements are not synonymous. Just because you buy a bike, ride that bike, wear your bike helmet, and lock your bike outside your Brooklyn apartment at night, this does not actually mean you are a biker. To be a real, full-fledged Brooklyn biker, you have to know all the tricks like how to fold your pant legs so they don't get caught in the chain and how to skirt in and out of moving traffic going both directions; you also sort of have to be an asshole. I have yet to master all of those skills. Instead, I'm wobbly when I start out on my bike, and whenever I slow down, and also when I stop. I'm basically wobbly the whole time I'm on the damn thing. I lack confidence and speed, and I'm a hazard to drivers, pedestrians, and myself. I don't have a bell or bike lights or a firm understanding of basic bike traffic laws. Yet, I bought a bike and Imma gonna ride it!

 

It's not bike's fault, though. Her name is Alice, and she is a beaut! I bought her from my friend SS who graduated to a real, grown up city bike. Since I'm just a beginner, I adopted Alice as my starter bike because she's sturdy, and she has a basket, and she really makes a statement. She says, "Don't take me too seriously, but please be nice because I'm cute." Actually I think it's a combination of Alice's likeness to a station wagon and my inability to be steadfast in any mode of transportation that make the two of us a dangerous addition to the streets of Brooklyn.

But please be nice because we're cute.