Road Warrior Part 2

My first bike was purple. I had it for all but three weeks, before it got "picked up" right outside the New School, where I was studying at the time.

Bike number two was black. This one I had for a bit longer, until one rainy afternoon, when I decided to leave it chained to the lamppost outside my apartment overnight, so as not to carry all the dirt into the kitchen.

Bike number three was a glorious and in hindsight, stupendously silly, bright, attention-hogging sky blue. This one got stolen twice. Sort of. The first time I left it chained to an iron-wrought fence in Chelsea on a Sunday afternoon. Two hours later I came back to find it devoid of its wheels. Poor baby had to be re-wheeled, re-tubed and re-tired. I think I had it for roughly another year after that. Happy times. Until it got whisked away from right under my nose. I had it chained to a handle mounted on the wall outside my recording studio. On the third floor. Some nifty bugger actually went through the trouble of removing the handle in order to take my beautiful ray-of-sunshine bike.

I went off colors after that and opted for a sturdy black beast, hybrid with bits of shiny lettering that I proceeded to cover with duct tape. I still have this one. It has served me well for ten years, but I will very soon donate it to the streets of New York City, once it's clear that my brandnew, beautiful bike, is here to stay. I have secured the quick-release back wheel with a hose clamp and acquired a roll of hockey tape to camouflage the bike's shininess, squirreling away any treacherous stickers that would advertise it to the highly organized crime ring of NYC bike thieves as a "steal".

It rides smoothly, the gear shifts actually work, and the tires are only a sexy inch and a half wide. On to the avoidance of knee-deep potholes, unexpected cab doors and oblivious pedestrians. On to the next ten years of riding my bike in New York City.