Flatbush Avenue is not bike friendly.
The traffic roars down Flatbush as it cuts across the borough like a diesel cataract, and I am utterly inconsequential to the buses, trucks, taxis, towncars; to the double parkers, the close passers, the door openers. And yet, for all that, I am not afraid.
At 6th Avenue, traffic trying to get across the intersection gets caught in the middle of the street, making it impossible for the flow going crossways to move, but I know better, and I weave through the honking cars that point every which way, just to keep my momentum, knowing I am only safe when I move, and the faster I go, the safer I will be.
One year ago today: Mea Culpa
Two years ago today: I'll Be Fine Tomorrow
Three years ago today: Among Other Things (But Not Many)
Six years ago today: 12/10/10 Sometimes I get carried away