Art in the wild

By Barry Oreck
I love to walk in the city, and I also love to ride my bike. So I was chagrined to hear a friend, a native New Yorker, recently say, “Biking has changed the way I feel about living here; it has obliterated one of my chief joys--walking the city. Every day, I believe my safety, as well as that of every other pedestrian, is at risk.” In the last decade more than 1500 miles of new bike lanes (650 miles dedicated) and 1700 bike rental stations have been a boon for cycling (with numbers of cyclists more than doubling) but as my friend and every New York City pedestrian knows, it has fundamentally altered the walking experience. Electric powered delivery bikes buzz the streets, with or against traffic. Power-assisted Citibikes allow commuters and casual day-trippers to ride at the speed of professional cyclists. Magnifying the danger on the streets, car and truck traffic has also increased (14% above pre-pandemic levels ), and distracted and aggressive drivers meet cellphone-preoccupied and headphone-wearing pedestrians, adding to an atmosphere of obliviousness, impatience, and intolerance. Though better infrastructure helps, the situation seems unlikely to improve simply by having more green painted bike lanes and better signage. Especially where riders meet walkers, we need some behavioral adjustments.

At 72, with biking a bigger part of my exercise routine, I’ve had to find ways to face and alter the fear dynamic both inside and outside of me, an approach I call the Smooth Ride. A Smooth Ride moves through the world in harmony. It’s central aim is to create zero additional fear or anxiety in me or any other human being I encounter on foot, bike, car, bus, truck, stroller, scooter, or wheelchair. An even higher goal: to have positive interactions with others as often as possible, negotiating the space peaceably in the language of movement and eye contact.

I still like to go fast but fast is relative. Everyone is going somewhere. Getting there safely means that we all get there safely. When the distracted person steps into the bike lane staring at her cell phone and I slow down at a distance with a gentle tap on my bell she looks up, we make eye contact, she smiles and sheepishly nods at me as I ride by; a potentially scary confrontation has turned into a positive one. The dapper gentleman with a cane slowly crossing the street against the light subtly tips his hat when I slow to allow him to reach the curb. I feel pleasure and curiosity, rather than annoyance when I come upon four generations of a Hassidic family filling the bike lane under the Verrazano bridge and I get off and walk my bike around them. I could have squeezed by, but I don’t. I make eye contact with the teenage boy of the family -- apparently the only one realizing where they are and that his 90-year-old grand bubbeh and newborn sister are at risk – and he gives me the sweetest smile. When the turning car stops for me, or the truck allows me to make the turn ahead of him, I acknowledge them with a wave and feel the positive vibe. Every ride has many such negotiations and each one feels like a small step for humanity in an increasingly rude, short-tempered world.

The smoother choice is not always to yield or slow down. Sometimes it’s better to move through and clear the space. It depends – does everyone see me coming, have we made clear eye contact, might someone be startled when I pass or when they step out from between cars? While slowing down in front of people, I often take a foot off the pedal so they can see that I am prepared to stop. When waiting at an intersection I put a foot on the ground and calmly gather myself to communicate to the crossers that I’m not impatiently waiting to blast by them at the first opportunity. Lower the temperature, lower the fear. People seem genuinely grateful and surprised to encounter a courteous cyclist looking out for them. The ratio of smiles to grimaces (or shrieks, epithets, middle fingers) is a clear measure of smoothness.

Though cruising along, hitting all the green lights (easier now with the countdown clocks) brings pleasure, stops and interruptions are a vital part of the Smooth Ride -- a chance to look around, settle into a place for a moment, take in the scenery, architecture, people on the street. When on a moving bike, focusing on the traffic and pavement, I can be unaware of miles of surroundings. Each pause resets my attention and reminds me to look at this fascinating, truly diverse conglomeration of neighborhoods and people I live with. One of my favorite short rides (about an hour) -- a loop into and out of Manhattan over the Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridges -- takes me through at least nine distinct neighborhoods, each one delineated by a mixture of people and styles of dress on the street, different languages on the bakery shop signs, smells of food, sounds of music. When I get back to my neighborhood, I see it with fresh eyes.

Flat pavement is a big plus for smoothness. But obstructions, potholes, storm grates, construction sites are unavoidable. Each is an opportunity to practice anticipation, creativity, and some mountain bike technique, finding the smoothest way through the danger zone. The challenges to smoothness – physical and interpersonal – enhance the satisfaction of finding the smoother path. Rolling, gliding, moving purposefully but calmly through this complex terrain is truly a state of flow. Flow is the balance between urgency and calm, effort and relaxation, momentum and pause, fast and not in a hurry.

Smooth has different facets on different days depending on mood, wind, weather, time, traffic, destination, the shape of my day. Smooth can be fast and exhilarating, as I catch all the lights on the 6th Avenue bike lane right up the center of Manhattan, or slow, bucking the wind down the Hudson River bike path. A trip home from the plant nursery on bumpy streets with a basket full of tender plants is an extra challenge to smoothness and a waterfront ride around Brooklyn, a time to let my mind wander and body find its own smooth pace.

Within the first block of starting out on a ride, whether I know where I’m going or not, I tell myself I am going to make this an especially smooth ride and that helps me settle into the ride physically and psychologically. I think of my ABCs: Anticipation -- looking ahead for people, car doors, obstructions, and bumpy pavement; Breath --- remembering to breathe, take in the scenery, stay calm; and Communication – eye contact, hand signals, making intentions clear to all other movers. That’s basically it. Smoothness is a state of mind.

When focused on the safety and comfort of everyone around me, appreciating and noticing my surroundings, feeling one with my bike and body, I return home feeling better about myself and the city I live in. No ride is perfectly smooth. Our biking culture is not yet at the level of Amsterdam or Copenhagen. Separated bike paths only take you so far and motorists often ignore “shared” on-street bike lane markings; constant vigilance is crucial. But when I practice lowering rather than raising the anxiety of my fellow travelers it feels like a small and meaningful contribution to a saner world. And, I should add, the Smooth Ride philosophy works well off the bike, too.