I bought a bike a few weekends ago. I assembled it and took it for a spin around the block. My knees kept knocking the handlebars as I rode and I nearly fell off into the road.
Looking around plum-faced I noticed I put the handlebars on backwards. I know — moron. But I was wretchedly hung over putting it together, so I won’t be surprised if it all comes apart on the first ride.
Then I thought about how I was going to get across the road to the massive park a few blocks away. I started imagining the ride to the first set of traffic lights. Without riding on the footpath or riding completely the wrong way for miles, I came to the conclusion that Melbourne still outranks Sydney bike-wise.
I’m no defeatist, and I love both cities. However, the Sydney psyche is about either walking around or driving at a feverish speed.
In Sydney, we keep up with traffic, no matter the speed, usually. We get exasperated at zebra crossings and we virtually glide by the shaved legs of bike riders, complaining about their using the road.
Melbourne is a different story completely. Drivers generally wait patiently for reverse-parking cars, trams careering past and pedestrians in shiny shoes.
I used to ride from Brighton to South Melbourne to work daily and at night, I’d fly around St Kilda beach up through Elwood without writing my will out each time before leaving the house.
I love how Amsterdam locals have the right of way, almost to the point of aggression, over riding through pedestrians and their trams. The feeling of imminent death being impaled by a handlebar while walking in Amsterdam is the same feeling I have riding to my local park in Sydney.
It would be so typical of a Sydney guy for me to drive to the park with the bike and then drive home, wouldn’t it?
