Monday, September 8, 2008

Fly whips and l'Alpe d'Huez:

I got me some wheels the other day. It's a hot ride, sitting on 20 inch (or metric equivalent) dubs, with a bumpin' soundsystem. It's my bike.


After nearly two weeks of consideration, all it took was a little peer pressure for me to finally make my decision and fork over the roughly 500 kroner it costs to rent a bike for five weeks. And let me tell you, I knew within minutes that I had made the right decision. I should have figured this out beforehand; that if a full third of Copenhageners ride bikes to work everyday, there's probably a good reason for it. Having a bike shrinks the city immeasurably. Copenhagen is a relatively small city already, but it's still hard to explore on foot, as reaching new areas from the familiar city center takes time and energy. But with a bike, everything is that much closer. Riding around the other day with a few friends, we crossed nearly the entire city in a matter of minutes (riding bikes is probably just as fast, if not faster, than driving in a car), so my prospects for future exploration look good.

Riding a bike has also made my commute that much more predictable (in a good, reliable way). No more waiting for the bus while the little screens for estimated time of arrival remain unchanging on "four minutes" for what is at least ten, and no more worrying about whether the bus will get really crowded and uncomfortable. Plus, the bus is really hot. In general, Copenhagen's bus system is efficient and effective, but after a couple of rides where the door has gotten stuck, the bus driver has decided to get everyone off for no apparent reason, and I've sat one seat over from a homeless man talking to himself -- loudly, the freedom provided by a bike is a welcome change.

I rented my bike from CPH Bike Rental, with whom DIS has struck up a relationship that entitles its students to reduced rates on rentals. Spending one's hard earned Danish kroner there has additional benefits, as well. CPH Bike Rental is the fundraising end of Baisikeli (Swahili for "bicycle"), a project that works to assist developing economies in Africa through the donation of secondhand bikes from Denmark. Some of the bikes that Baisikeli collects are rented out through CPH Bike Rental, while the rest are shipped to Africa to provide a reliable form of transportation for small businesses there. So in addition to getting yourself a sweet city cruiser for checking out the local sites and scenes, you can provide an African small business owner with a sweet village velo for checking out his or her sites and scenes (and, you know, business stuff).

So far I've been having a grand old time getting my Lance on on the way to and from school, but, like everything, there were first some things to learn. Copenhagen has some pretty well established norms for biking -- stay to the right except for passing, anyone riding at night needs working lights, and use hand signals liberally but subtly -- but it's well worth it for the chance to be drafting off some Danish babe with her hair and scarf waving gracefully in the wind.

Danish women know how to ride. At first it was a little disconcerting being passed by a blond beauty wearing a skirt and heels, but I've forced myself to get used to it. Granted, I'm just out for a leisurely ride to school, so I have no reason to push the pace the way Danish women apparently do. They're probably all running late for some sort of meeting where they brush their golden locks, make up more words that are impossible to say, and the government pays for everything. Of course, I'm sure that if this were a mountain stage in the Tour de France that I could put these Danes in their spot. I'd challenge Debby Gorgeous Danish Woman to keep pace with me up l'Alpe d'Huez anyday, and you can bet your government funded education and ungodly beauty that she'd be feeling the burn. Nearing the top of the peak, I'd make my move, breaking away from the group while Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen remark with their usual urgency, "Oh my...he's absolutely dancing on the pedals!" At that point, I'd turn around to my beautiful, but soon-to-be-defeated competitors and give them The Look, which of course means, "I'll meet you in the hotel at the top of the mountain. Bring the massage oils."

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