Penelope & Me

My friend, Xandra, once confessed to me that she is a one-issue voter. “I’m a single-issue voter,” she stated and then paused for emphasis, “My one issue is biking rights.” I was a bit shocked to hear this. I was expecting a more polarizing single-issue like abortion or taxes or war. But, then I reasoned with myself, we are in New York City, the land of opinions. Here nearly everything is a polarizing issue.

I have a love-hate relationship with biking in the City. I bought my bike, Penelope (as in Penelope Cruiser),

in June. I found her amongst the heaps of bike parts in Bikes by George’s ramshackle shop in the Lower East Side. When I spotted her, she was just a scuffed-up, off-white Shwinn frame, but I saw potential. I asked George if he could build her for me. He agreed and within two weeks Penelope and I were rolling the streets together.

Anyone who dares to buy a bike in this city knows the risks of owning a bike in the city. Pot holes, insufficient bike lanes, crazy taxi drivers, no storage and bike thieves.  One of the reasons I opted for a used bike was because I figured it was going to get stolen. In NYC stolen bike sob stories are as ubiquitous as halal food carts. One such tale came from my roommate Jeniece. A year ago her bike was stolen from the curb outside of our apartment. City workers who were repaving the sidewalk pulled the street sign that her bike was locked to out of the cement. When she came home there was a fresh sidewalk and new road sign, but no bike.

The warnings sunk in. I detach my seat, lock my front tire to the frame and bring my basket up to the apartment after every ride.

It wasn’t too long before I experienced my own first sad bike episode. My boyfriend, Jay, and I had taken our bikes for an outing across the East River to Smorgasburg in Brooklyn. We locked our bikes up together using a cable lock. This was our mistake. We typically use a U-lock, but figured with so many people around in broad day light no one would dare cut a lock and steal a bike. We were wrong. Walking back to the spot where we locked our bikes I saw Penelope leaning on the post. I turned to Jay and said, “Where is your bike?” Both our hearts sunk, Jay’s a bit more than mine. His bike was gone. I guess the thief didn’t want Penelope.

That day Jay bought a new bike, a silver Schwinn hybrid. Two weekends later it was stolen out front my apartment on Elizabeth Street.

After this episode, I began to lose a little faith in the people of New York City. I spent sleepless nights inventing bike tracking and city bike docking devices to deter theft. I thought up a system of licensing bikes, so when they go stolen they can be tracked back to their owner if found. I considered quitting my job and starting a bike valet pick-up and storage service. I even schemed an elaborate overnight stakeout on my street corner to catch the perpetrator red handed. I was clearly affected by these bike thefts.

In the end, Jay, once again, got a new bike. It’s sleek, green and I named it Tom (as in Tom Cruiser). The name hasn’t stuck with Jay yet… I’m working on that. We continue to wheel to far off, exotic destinations like Astoria, Queens; Bay Ridge, Brooklyn; Coney Island and Hyde Park.

One evening I told Halleel, the owner of the bar downstairs, about Elizabeth Street’s woeful bike misfortunes. Jeniece was with me and corroborated with her stolen bike story. Halleel asked, “Wait, YOUR bike was locked to this post?” “Yeaaah,” Jeniece sighed her reply. She really loved that bike. “Come with me.” He said as he disappeared from the sidewalk down basement steps. Jeniece, looking back in wonderment, followed him down the stairs. Halleel had her bike. One happy ending.

There would be no happy endings for me, though. Monday afternoon, I was walking from the Bowery J station on Kenmare when I spotted Penelope in the distance. She didn’t look like herself. As I neared I saw the thieves had struck again, this time they stole her back tire, cup holder and the wire holder that keeps my basket in place. She was a mere shadow of her former self, looking used and tossed aside. The sorry sight made me want to give up.

Two days passed and I received a note in my inbox from my single-issue friend Xandra:

Hey girl!

Your bike trips look super fun!  How are things?

So, the time is here, and I'm not sure who the best candidate is for biking rights.  It looks like they all kind of suck anyway.  What is your advice on this matter?

This got me to thinking that I can’t give up. I WILL put Penelope back together again. And perhaps I'll even petition the new Mayor for a crackdown on bike crime... 

If you want to make an informed decision on which 2013 NYC mayoral candidate to vote for based on the issues that you care about, check out this article: NY Times: Where The Candidates Stand