You Can’t Spell “Embargo” Without “Bar” Or “Go.” Think About It.

In my capacity as a semi-professional bike blogger I recently received an invitation on behalf of [REDACTED] to a media event for their new [REDACTED], which I can’t share with you yet because it’s under embargo and I signed papers acknowledging that if I do so I’ll be imprisoned or killed. However, I can say that the media event was in Brooklyn, because of course it was. So I figured I’d make a day of it by riding down there on my Quasi-Mixte Fop Chariot:

Since retiring from my radio show I no longer ride over the Manhattan Bridge on a regular basis, and in fact I couldn’t recall the last time I’d done so. This is America’s premiere Cat 6 venue, and as I mounted the span for the return trip, right into the oncoming evening rush hour bike traffic, my pulse quickened, my senses sharpened, and the free promotional materials I’d received bounced excitedly around in my wire basket:

Unlike the boiling frogs who live in Brooklyn and are unable to register the constant changes taking place around them, occasional visitors like me have much greater insight. For example, while the aforementioned frogs constantly lament the state of their streets and the lack of bike infrastructure, it seems like every time I go to Brooklyn I find a shiny new bike lane, or velocipedal parking facility, or street that’s been cordoned off from motor vehicle traffic allowing well-heeled denizens to dispense with their disposable income more efficiently. Similarly, having been away from the Manhattan Bridge for quite awhile, I noted that the motorized scooter situation (both electric and gas-burning) has greatly intensified, which I had an opportunity to ponder as this rider threaded the needle between me and the bicyclist just behind him:

I think he expected me to move for him, but he failed to account for: A) my mental fortitude; and II) The fact that he posed little threat to me as my wire basket would serve as a crumple zone in the event of a collision.

Speaking of collisions, the sheer intensity that is this roiling cauldron of micromobility would go a long way towards explaining this person’s attire:

I’m reasonably certain he’s riding a Bissell electric broom:

I wonder if he wears the same outfit when he tidies his home.

Of course, I was also emboldened by the fact I easily had the classiest bike south of 59th Street, though this specimen ranked a close second:

Anyway, having cleared the bridge, I found myself in Manhattan, which is also constantly undergoing profound change. For example, they recently built an island in the Hudson out of gigantic golf tees for some reason:

Visitors access the island from the Hudson River Greenway, which presents lots of exciting new opportunities for pedestrian/cyclist conflict:

So unyielding are the bicyclists of the Hudson River Greenway that they now have people directing traffic at the crosswalks along Chelsea Piers:

I don’t know who the “they” is that underwrote the crossing guards (The city? The state? The developers?) but I do know what when I yielded to some people who had been waiting to cross they thanked me and some idiot riding his bike shirtless yelled at me.

In any event, I greatly enjoyed my ride to the trend factory, but it always feels good to return to the highlands of New York City, where life makes more sense:

I guess I’m just a rube.

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