See? Superman rides a bike (at least one day out of the year)
yeah, we were part of the biggest peloton you could find on Sunday, May 1st. 30,000 cyclists converged at Ground Zero with every intention of riding all 5 boroughs of NYC. Start at Battery Park and head uptown--no map needed, just follow the wheel in front of you.
Cousin Brucie Way
The day had started out cold and rainy. Since this was our first 5BBT, we were anxious not to miss anything--and the organizers had admonished us (somewhat sternly, even in print) to be at the starting point by 7:30 a.m. We were staying at the Chelsea Savoy, so it didn't take long for us to mount up and cycle our way to South Battery. At that hour of the morning, I was at first more interested in a cup of coffee, but it was so much fun riding around Manhattan(!) on our bikes that I soon was caught up in a convivial group of fellow cycle "tourists". We all had on matching 5BBT vests, and were heading in the same general direction.
We had been warned to wear our vests at all times, to identify us as part of the 5BBT. As if there was a bicycle in all of NYC that wasn't on this ride!
(Early on a Sunday morning, even in the heart of NYC, it's pretty easy to imagine that the only mode of transportation in the city is a bicycle. Oh, the dream.)
As we got close to the start (as close as we could get, anyway), I finally got my cup of coffee as Matthew had a word with one of the Ride Captains
do I have time for a cuppa joe?
OK, but hurry. It's nearly 8am, and we want to be there for the BIG START. And just as we rounded the corner to the starting point, it started to rain. Matthew headed for the shelter of a subway station canopy, and I was right behind him. And right behind several hundred other riders, so we sort of hung halfway between shelter and no shelter.
From the looks of it, not many of our fellow "tourists" had thought to check the weather report before they left town--this is what separated mere "riders" from more experienced "cyclists" (or maybe they just hadn't bothered to listen when mom said it was going to rain).
And now that we had some shelter, it seemed as though we also had plenty of time to people-watch. There are plenty of folks that do this really, really, well. For every group that had fashioned makeshift rain gear from the bag their bagel came in, there was a group that was showing style. Like the "Nuclear Family",
it was clear that lots of folks had spent some time thinking about this ride. As we were to discover later, it would be "relatively" easy for families and friends to become separated during the ride. Hood ornaments were the obvious (and chic) answer to this dilemma. In addition to the scientific notation that this family wore, we saw rubber duckies, streamers of all types, crazy straws, and even lightning bolts, all affixed to the top of helmets, and all worn as proudly as if it were the familial plaid kilt and coat of arms.
So, round about 8:00 a.m. a cheer goes up from the front of the peloton, and like an audio "wave", we added our voices as it flowed from the front to the back of the gathering. Great! we're ready to go! Let's get out from under the shelter and out into the street . . . where they're not moving AT ALL. Retreat! Back under the canopy!
under the canopy at the subway station
We finally got rolling just before 9:00 a.m., and even then it was pretty slow going. Normally a 42-mile ride would take us until maybe 1:00 p.m.--if we stopped for lunch. It swiftly dawned on us that we had joined a different kind of ride. At least the rain was downshifting into a light, readily ignorable, mist.
Radio City Music Hall and Cousin Brucie Way was the next stop--literally. The peloton slowed to a walk, and then we all dismounted for a stop at the port-a-lets. The roadway was packed with cyclists, who were all walking alongside their bikes. The mystery was solved when we got to an intersection that was being used to let cars through. OK, it's still cars that cause traffic jams.
And now we're rolling again, on our way to the Bronx.
It's a short trip--we spent just enough time in the Bronx for me to take this picture as proof that we made it to all 5 boroughs.
Our next stop was Astoria Park in Queens--what a beautiful park!
Astoria Park in Queens
The park doesn't look that big when you come up on it, but there was plenty of room for the few thousand of us that wandered in. The park was a rest stop--time for a snack and to refill water bottles. The view of the bridges--old and new--and the river beside us as we rode out of the park was really special. New York does a remarkable job of providing green spaces for it's residents.
Next Stop: DUMBO, via the Brooklyn Bridge. 
DUMBO is a newly chic neighborhood--Down Under The Manhattan Bridge Overpass. Looks very liveable, and we were charmed enough to look up housing prices later. $600k will get you a one-bedroom apartment . . . There's an old Navy Yard nearby that's slated to become upscale shopping.
There was a sort of culture clash in my head as we rode through the neighborhoods of Brooklyn. Since it was Sunday, there were a lot of folks returning from church--walking, because that's what people in NY do. Many of them were families of Hasidic Jews--you could have taken a picture of any family, changed it to a sepia-tone, and easily passed it off as a photo from the early 1900's. It occurred to me that their clothing and hairstyles served a purpose in much the same way as my spandex and helmet-styled hair do. Kids are kids, though, and there was a lot of waving, yoo-hoo-ing and bicycle-bell ringing as the peloton rode through.
And then I started to feel the road roughen. When an inner tube pops, it's usually pretty dramatic and immediate. But when the rubber separates and the air just leaks out, it's almost rhythmic. There's a bump, every time the opening in the tube makes contact with the road. Until there's no air left--then you either have to ride the rim or walk to the nearest bike shop.
Fortunately for me, that was only a couple of blocks away. Brooklyn Bikes was open and ready for business--six cyclists with various complaints descended on them all at once.
The guys there put on a new tube in short order . . .
The wrenches at Brooklyn Bikes
and while I waited, I spied this little jewel in the ranks of the shop's bicycles. 
a hood ornament for the "mean streets"
And just as soon as I stepped out of the bike shop, newly inflated tires under my seat, the clouds broke open and the sun came pouring out. It would stay out for the rest of the day. Ahh, Brooklyn.
In short order we re-joined the ride and passed out of those lovely old neighborhoods, making our way to the next borough. As soon as we hit the expressway, we hit gridlock. Go figure. We never did figure out what the bottleneck was.
gridlock on the expressway . . .
Maybe everyone was just trying to bolster their courage for the only real "hill" on the route--The Verrazano Narrows Bridge. The captain we talked to in the morning had warned us that it was a long, tough climb. He obviously could tell this was our first 5BBT, and he reassured us that "many riders will walk it--no shame in that". Good god, what monster climb awaited us?
I didn't see very many riders who weren't riding, so I toughed it out until I crested the top of the bridge, and then took a "scenic photo" from the bridge.
The View from the Verrazano Narrows Bridge--yeah!
Then I turned around and took one more pic. Here's to the many thousands of riders--casual or dedicated, recreational or competitive--who sucked it up and rode to the top of the bridge. Cheers!
a different view of the Verrazano bridge . . .
Once you've hit the top of the bridge, the really scary part is right in front of you. Where we had been riding all day on NYC-in-your-face, roadwork-is-for-wimps roads, we were now staring at a wide ribbon of smooth, dark, fast, asphalt. Downhill. Did I mention the crosswind? This is where you find out if the rental bike has brakes. . .
Wow, we're nearly done! That bridge came at the exact right moment--first a climb where you could almost hear everybody humming the theme from Rocky, and then a Six-Flags-Over-Staten-Island theme-park thrill ride down. Just around the corner is the "festival" of vendors, waiting for unsuspecting cyclists with money to burn and space in their panniers. Just thread your way through the carnival and it's only 3 miles to the Staten Island Ferry!
and then it was only 2 miles to the Staten Island Ferry . . .
And then we started to wonder how long it would take for us to get on board a Staten Island Ferry. Turns out that the answer to that question is "longer than it takes to fly from Atlanta to NYC". We waited in line for over 2 hours, and then waited another 45 minutes before we actually got on board the ferry. This was turning out to be a very long day, indeed, and there was almost no possible way that we'd make our flight back to Atlanta that evening. Oh well. There are worse things than being stranded in Manhattan (assuming that we would eventually get off Staten Island and back to Manhattan).
Once on the ferry, there was a little time to do some people-watching. Frankly, the standing around for 3 hours had left me wanting only to sit. Cyclists come in so many flavors, though, that I didn't even have to move from my seat to get these shots:
bicycle ornaments I've never seen before--a gnome and a wind-chime
three fellow cyclists . . . I don't speak Dutch but I think they do
As we sailed back into the harbor we passed the Statue of Liberty--a beautiful sight in the late afternoon sun. We were due to return the rental bikes before 6pm, and we had about 30 minutes to get there. While I was pretty sure that they wouldn't close up shop before we arrived, my spouse wasn't taking any chances. His fear of not meeting a committment completely blocked out any fear of riding in the traffic of New York City. We practically flew uptown and arrived just before 6pm, our honor unbesmirched. The shop had rented out about 70 bikes for the day; we were among the first to arrive back in town!
Since there was no way we were making our 7pm flight home, I finally got a dish of ice cream (I always ride with ice cream as a goal). If you can find serenity in ice cream, then imagine how you'd feel if the shop was giving out free toppings just for showing up wearing purple. I'd peeled off my yellow rain jacket hours earlier, and was sporting both a purple jersey AND helmet. Once my karma had been restored, airports could be navigated. We made a call to Delta, got a later flight, caught a cab to the airport, and were home before midnight.
And back to work the next day, too. Did your weekend include an adventure with super-heroes? I hope so. gonecycling.
