Here’s my old Cannondale hybrid.

It has 21-speeds and can be geared so low it will almost climb a wall. I love that bike.

But when I do get a bike, I hope it’s one of these.

Not that your average Chicagoan gets it.

At least Croydon has a system they can complain about. In my community, there is nothing for cyclists except for scenic rail trails, which while beautiful, are useless for most commuting.

I’d bike more often if it was practical and I didn’t have to worry about getting killed or paralyzed.

Somewhere in the vasty Internets, there’s a harrowing helmet-cam video by a rider going down a so-called bike path in the East Village. I can’t find that one, but this one gives you an idea of what it’s like. Bike paths here are bullshit.

And, you know, I like President Bloomberg and all, but I just don’t understand what the hell is his problem with the Critical Mass rides. If he had treated them reasonably, they’d be a quarter the size that they are. By persecuting them month after month, year after year, however, he’s turned it into a huge issue. He should be encouraging bikers, not waging war on them.

And then, there’s this.

Bikes are awesome. Bikes are the future. I used to love biking. But people who have the nerves do it in NYC under the present conditions are Special. I am not Special. So I walk and take the train.

A Very Special friend of my mom’s, an artist in her seventies, has one of those folding bikes, and she rides it everywhere. She takes it on trips, too. She had her knee replaced a couple of years ago, and she still has trouble walking and climbing stairs, but she has no hesitation about biking. “I can’t walk, but I can ride,” she says, grinning.