On the waterfront

“You’re a different person on your bike,” a friend observed.  This was after I had related the story of my latest night ride, one the best I’ve ever taken in the city.  Sleepless and restless, I left my apartment at 1am and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge with no particular destination in mind.  I meandered my way to the Red Hook waterfront, which in the wee hours is a spookily deserted neighborhood comprised mostly of docks, piers, truckyards, warehouses, and derelict buildings.  It’s also the location of a monstrous new waterfront Ikea, which I curiously explored for several minutes before being accosted by a security guard.  For the next fifteen minutes, I tried to take pictures of the Ikea campus while being chased by three security guards, until they finally called the cops.  At least, I think they did – a patrol car showed up, so I bolted off.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a generally respectful person, and certainly not a scofflaw.  But there was something absurdly amusing about three annoyed security guards on foot half-heartedly chasing a lone biker around an enormous lot, when the biker is a Google lawyer who just wants to take pictures at 3am.  After all, it’s not as if I was casing the joint for a crime syndicate planning to hijack the next shipment of Ektorp chaises.

As my friend points out, trespassing and running from the cops doesn’t fit most people’s image of me, or my own self-image, for that matter.  And my commenting friend has also heard plenty of other bike stories – the near-brawl I almost got into with a cab driver, my exuberant descriptions of traffic surfing down the avenues, my (aborted) plan to start carrying some sort of tool which I could use to maim the paint jobs of SUVs that almost ran me over.

He’s right:  I am a different person on my bike.  Quick, decisive, and often reckless.  Prone to both joy and anger.  Impulsive and free-spirited.  All of which contrast with my dismounted personality.  Perhaps that’s why I enjoy riding so much – it lets me escape from me.

Comments

[annlee]

i feel like i don't know you anymore mike. hehe j/k. maybe it's not an escape but a discovery of what's beneath