Biking is Good

Ahh, my first day biking to work. How sweet it is.


It took me an hour and a half, but that was expected. I didn't take the most direct route, but that will be found later. I have a bike lane alongside a highway for almost half of it. The lane is actually on the sidewalk, not the highway, so there is a curb between me and traffic. I like it.

So, the Bicycle Story.

I went a good ways up into North London to buy the bike. I had downloaded directions to ride it home from the Transport for London website. Little did I know that these directions weren't designed for speed, but rather to encounter the least amount of traffic along the way. This means it is a very random and circuitous route. Had I known where I was going, it would have taken me about an hour to get home.

I will say this for the States: we put a clearly posted street sign at every corner, telling you the name of every street. London does not. On the rare occation you get a street sign, it is in a random place on the side of a building or down low by the road, and it often only lists one road. I wasted at least an hour total riding back and forth past streets I was looking for, but weren't labeled. I think this must be an anti-tourist measure. Arrgh!

At around 10:30 pm (I started the journey at about 7), I was halfway. The direction led me to an industrial area that was totally deserted. I turned down the prescribed road, and it went into a tiny, dark tunnel with the name of the street roughly hand-painted above it. I flew through, hoping my speed would ward off any potential attackers lurking in the shadows. There were none, but I was spit out onto a cobblestone street. It lead to a dead end.

I want to go back to this place and take pictures, or possibly film a horror movie there. I can't think of a better place to be mugged/raped/murdered/carried off to the Goblin King's dungeon. There was a circular cobbled area with a building that would probably be quite interesting in the daylight, but at night it was creepy and foreboding. Surrounded by bushes and hills, and decrepit gazeebo stood off to the left. Twisted hunks of metal somethings were scattered about, throwing odd shadows in the dim light of the single sodium streetlamp. Something was rustling in the bushes. The map wanted me to continue straight ahead, where it became completely dark and I couldn't tell if the opening I could see was a path, or just further into the wild. It took me about 5 seconds to decide that the map could continue on, but I was getting the hell out of there.

I tried several different routes to get where I wanted to be, but they all led back to the same Courtyard of Terror. I finally figured out the map wanted me to ride for some miles along a poorly lit canal. I'm sure in the day it would be pleasant, but I decided this wasn't the best time. After much worry and enough stress to make me sick to my stomach (I still hadn't had dinner), I found a mini cab company to take me and my bike home. It was about midnight when I arrived at my house, and at least 1 before I could sleep. The next morning was not terribly pleasant.

However, all this was worth it for the kick-ass bike I ended up with. It looks very much like this:



So that's the bike story. Next time, Paris. Stay tuned!