My Commute

I am going to devote a few pages to the bike I commute on. It is my main bike. I ride it every work day. I didn’t build it myself; it’s something I bought new. I have modified it quite a bit, to make it into the ideal commuting machine. But before I get into the details of the bike, I have to describe my commute, which will explain the specific requirements of my commuter bike.

I didn't build it myself. I have had to make various modifications to it, though, that have made it unique. But that uniqueness is what mystifies me the most about this bike. If I didn't have this bike, I would get another one just like it, and make the same modifications. If I were the bicycling industry, I would sell these. But no one does. Another commuter I know, who has similar requirements (except that he doesn't require a folding bike), bought his bike in Switzerland. It's a Trek (an American company) but this model isn't sold here. Apparently there's no market for it. I just don't get that.

Anyway, as I say, this is my commuter bike. I really don’t have any other way of getting to work. The bike is my car. The family car is more or less my wife’s, though I drive it sometimes. I don’t have a car. I have this bike. I’m not complaining. I’m proud of my bike.

I work in Manhattan, about sixty miles from home, and to get there I ride my bike to the train station, fold up the bike and get on the train where I sit, often unconscious, for an hour. Then the real fun begins: playing in traffic! Now, I’ve seen traffic in Rome, Istanbul, Jerusalem, Aleppo, Tunis, and other interesting places. So I’m not going to complain about New York City traffic. It’s really pretty civilized in comparison. But let’s face it, riding a bike up Eighth Avenue, between all the taxis at Port Authority Bus Terminal, and through the joggers and dog walkers of Central Park, is not for the faint of heart. This is technical cycling. I eventually stop for coffee, walk the rest of the way to my office, Later that day I reverse the whole process, without coffee. It works out to about 21 miles on the bike, 110 miles on the train. For every hour I spend at my job, I spend a half hour getting there. And I know that sounds like a lot, but the half hour spent getting there is more fun than the hour spent working, so I can’t complain.

People ask, how I get to work when I don't ride my bike. Answer: I don't go to work when I can't ride my bike there. I really don't have another way of getting there. But that is a choice I've made; after all, I suppose I could drive. If I had a car –in addition to my wife’s car, that is—I could drive to the station, park in the garage there, ride the train without my bike, then walk to the subway, ride the subway, and walk the rest of the way. Getting to the station, even after parking, would save me about five minutes, allowing me to leave home five minutes later and arrive home five minutes earlier. Walking and taking the subway in the city would cost mefive or ten minutes each way, so would reduce my work day a little bit. So driving would save a little time, and cost quite a bit of money between the expense of a second car, gas, parking (it’s not cheap), and subway fare. Some people may think this would improve my quality of life; I don’t.

Working these kinds of hours means part of my ride is in the dark all year round, and all of my ride is in the dark at this time of year (December).

So here are the few basic requirements I have for my bike:
--It has to fold up compact enough to fit on the train.
--it has to have lights good enough that riding in the dark is as safe as riding in light.
--it has to have fenders, so I can ride on wet roads without getting road grime splattered all over myself.
--it has to be robust enough that I can beat the crap out of it every day without doing much maintenance.
--And, finally, it has to be a decent bike, one that I’m willing to ride every day, keep up with Manhattan traffic, and that kind of thing.

I'll admit that all of these requirements are flexible to some degree. The first one, about how it folds up, for example: I ride a commuter train that duriing rush hours allows only bikes that fold up. They don’t tell you how well or how small or how fast the bike folds up; they only require THAT it folds up. A bike that folds up, but poorly, is allowed; but I’d have to sit in the area reserved for handicapped riders or luggage. To sit near the bike, in those locations, I’d have to sit in a seat that folds down. That’s not good enough for me; I can’t relax in those seats, and so I can’t sleep there. If the bike folds up small enough that I can put it on an overhead rack, I can sit anywhere on the train. If the bike folds up small enough that I can stash it between the seats, that works too. But I spend two hours on the train every day. I want to be able to relax, and sleep, in that time.