Lime Bike p2
wHAT ARE YOUR LIMITS ON THE COMMUTE
For me, I can deal with some unsettling things I’ve seen on the Tube, but where I draw the line is anyone who breathes into the air too close to my face. Then my breathing is opposite to theirs, so on an in‑breath I’m breathing out, therefore I’m breathing their breath into my mouth. And because we are so close on the Tube, there is no way I can come up for air. I’m left there holding my breath, which is even worse — having someone else’s breath stuck in my mouth to stop any more onion breath getting into my mouth. It’s a long process that normally takes the entire Tube journey, and then I stumble off just before I pass out.
Now, I told myself after the first time I used a Lime bike that I would never get on another ever again. To be honest, when I start drinking I say I’ll never do it again, and here I am writing drunken stories about commuting. But I must say, this Lime bike experience happened whilst completely sober — as I’m no criminal — but mainly because I don’t think I could cycle in a straight line. Would I have any balance? Or would that be it? Plus, with the extra boost, I’d feel invincible and I think it could go so many ways. I’d probably spend so much and not even make it home. I’d just ride around for long hours.
However, that didn’t happen and will not happen.
This time I finished some work off, and it was the end of the month, so I finished early and thought I’d go on a breezy cycle via Buck Pal (Buckingham Palace) and stop midway for a Jackie P. (If you don’t know what that is, no bother reading on.)
Anyway. I got changed into optimal cycle clothing: thermals, joggers, gloves, and a helmet. Obviously everything else normal people wear, but those were my added bonuses. I had brought my helmet in from home as I’m an advocate for brain health, and if I were to shed some brain matter over the curb, I can guarantee I’d get a few hundred people going, “I told you so.” So no brain bleed for me today, thank you very much.
I found the bike on a side road. I chose this so I wouldn’t have to deal with the judgement of fellow commuters as I try to put the stand down. Or is it putting it up? As it goes up, but down means away. I was putting the stand in its place of origin. But the bike weighs no more than a fucking elephant, so how hard can it be? Could go with “that’s what she said,” but I’m too serious for those silly jokes.
I then connected the bike to my phone, which was surprisingly easier than trying to connect a mouse to a laptop. No joke there — just a positive note for Lime bikes. Although I had watched a documentary about broken legs via Lime bikes. I thought, any bike is able to break my legs; I’m built like a flamingo. So the risk is already there, and if I manage to fall off cycling as slow as physically possible and taking every precaution possible, and yet I still break my legs, at least I would know I should never get on a bike ever again.
Off I popped. Not the tyre — just me moving off. I would like the bike to act somewhat like a realistic bike, where as you start pedalling the speed is slow, and as it builds up the motor kicks in. And once it does, we can now reflect on my decision to strap myself to a rocket. I should never go to space. I would complain too much, and I doubt they have Canva on the ISS.
I made it to the end of the side road, approaching the main road. I looked both ways and tried creeping and peeping, which is impossible on a bike that has one speed, which is “fuck you.” So I went with the wind, and for the first few seconds I had the breeze in my face and I could relax. Then those seconds stopped being relaxing, and I ended up in a traffic jam. I could weave, but I don’t have the ability to not crash into a car. I have no accuracy on a bike that weighs more than any bus on the roads.
I had no option but to sit and wait, and so I did. Just enjoying the slow, endless sight of black cabs, buses, and the occasional pickup truck. I never knew how many white vans were in central London, and that’s quite scary. Luckily, if the bike fell on me, at least no one could kidnap me, as it would be impossible to get the bike off me in a rush. There’s an advert in there for Lime bikes.
I ended up in Farringdon thinking, there’s no way I’m going to make it to Buck Pal. I also remembered I don’t like a Jackie P as much as watching someone standing where they think the train will end up, but in fact the train stops way further back from their position. Nothing beats that. And so I went and sat at London Bridge for 40 minutes watching every stupid person do it.
In the end, I’ve realised Lime bikes are great for a side quest but terrible for trying to go slow.