Riding over the Willy B, Part I

Photo from: http://www.nyc.gov/

As I sit on my sofa, I am forced to listen to my landlords spawn run rampant in their apartment above me. Every night when I return home from a long day this scenario will play out at least until 9:30 at which point I believe they go to bed. As they toss out the window any concern about whether their noise bothers me, I begin to think about my day's ride home from work.

My commute for the most part is relatively flat, except for when it comes to the Williamsburg Bridge which happens to span the East river. The Williamsburg, though not as famous as the Brooklyn bridge, basks in its own awesomeness as it connects Hipsterburg to Manhattan. The view while crossing the bridge to Manhattan or neighboring Brooklyn are an amazing site to behold, not unlike the awesome parade that happens ever year over in the West Village.

Photo from: http://www.untitledname.com

Wooo, double walk path all the way across the sky, I mean bridge. (see what I did there?). One path is for cycling, the other for pedestrians, although the walkers prefer to use the bike path while listening to the hottest band I will never hear of in headphones made from unicorn horn. Also, there are people who will spread out taking up the entire width of the paths while walking over the bridge, but I'll leave them out of this.

Many a PBR swiller travels over the bridge to and from the city, skip hopping on their track bikes to their barista, or arty type jobs. I honestly haven't a clue where they work, but for the sake of this blog, they are all baristas. To be honest, I too, am guilty of skip hopping down the bridge on my way to my deluxe half cubicle in the sky (not so Good Times). Though I can easily lump myself into the same group as the swiller, I am but chunky and also drink a higher quality of beer (to each their own). We all have messenger bags slung over our shoulders, but there are actually very few us out making deliveries. Maybe, it's times for backpack.

Night time, I usually can fly over the bridge, mornings not so much. In the a.m., I possess neither the energy or the desire to quickly go up the steep Brooklyn side of the bridge. I used to enjoy trying to pass people on the bridge, but screw that. I'm not a road or alleycat racer. I don't wear a king of the mountain jersey nor do I collect UCI points. I'm not being paid to pass a person who isn't even aware they are loosing a race that is transpiring only in the chasm of my mind. This means I'll never stand on a podium and spray champagne at reporters. I'll leave that to the Ivan Bassos and  Cavendishs' of the world. (By the way, I totally love watching cycling races, which is why I know those two names).

Photo by: Daniel Schtwen via wiki 

Even though I try my hardest not to race, it still remains enjoyable ride over the bridge, especially at this time year. There are not too many people who ride in extreme cold weather, because it can suck worse than a surprise drug test you know you're about to fail, and so, many people avoid winter cycling. I can still enjoy stealing glimpses of people riding the JMZ, knowing the MTA is about to make them late for work. The auto congestion on the bridge gives me satisfaction as well, as I know I can get to the light at the bottom and be on my way before cars can finish a top 100 commercial break. These are just a couple things that keep my mind off my burning thighs as I muscle my way over the bridge. Oh, the joy.



And so goes another trip across the bridge. To be continued....