The morning commute

I was a little late to work today because of all the traffic. In the bike lane. Had I been in a car, I would have been cursing the vehicle that pulled in front of me, preventing me from slipping through that yellow light. But I live in Portland, and I could only be amused by the back-up of bicycles waiting to get on the Broadway Bridge.

Once you're on the bridge, there's not a lot of room to manuever, so there's a lot of jockeying for position, lest you be caught behind someone pedalling eight miles an hour on a comfort cruiser. This morning, as I pedalled the back streets on my way to the bridge, whistling a happy tune, I passed a guy in dress shoes riding some kind of hybrid loaded down with packed pannniers. He caught up with me and made a right on red while I was waiting to turn left, but I saw him again waiting to turn onto Broadway from a side street as I whizzed past on my way to the bridge. (So much for his alternative route.) I was slowed down by the back-up and missed the light, but managed to pull ahead of a couple slo-riders before getting onto the bridge. Then Dress Shoes passes me on the uphill. Curses! He rode the rest of the bridge in the middle of the bike lane, then peeled off onto a side street before I could pass him again -the bastard! But once you're over the bridge the real fun begins, because after a steepish downhill, Broadway makes an uphill climb, starting off gradually and getting steeper with every block, and every block has a stop light, so your timing has to be just right or you lose momentum, and you better not be stuck behind someone, because there are three lanes of traffic to your left and taxis, vans and trucks standing in the loading zone to your right, so there is definitely no room for passing, but you find a way to pass, because nothing feels better than flying past that girl on the Bianchi or the guy in the day-glo bike shorts.

Ah, the art of urban biking.