Farewell Yuba, I Hardly Knew Ye.

Good morning!

First things first, I've got a new Outside column on Outside's website:

It's all about my experiences riding the Yuba Supermarché and the sociological implications thereof...though yesterday I officially returned the bike because they asked for it back.  This involved a 20-mile ride from my Bronx estate to 718 Cyclery in Brooklyn, who you should be sure to visit for all your adventure and cargo bike needs:

It snowed here on Saturday night, so when I approached the bike yesterday morning here's what it looked like:

I briefly considered leaving the snow in the tub to enhance my workout, but instead I leaned the bike over and dumped out the snow in the middle of the street.  Then I shoved off, sticking to the surface roads since the Hudson River Greenway was undoubtedly a mess.  Things were a little messy at first, and I'd have rather been on the greenway than in amongst the car traffic on a large bicycle, but by the time I reached Central Park I was pedaling through a winter idyll:

So was this guy:

And yes, he was listening to a handlebar-mounted speaker system.

Anyway, all was going well until the bike started going a little squirmy, and that's when I realized I had a front flat.  Naturally I'd brought no flat-fixing supplies with me whatsoever, but fortunately there's a bike rental place on 7th Avenue just outside the park, and so I availed myself of their mechanical services:

The gentleman who performed the repair declared himself the "flat king," inasmuch as he services all the pedicabs and various other pedal-powered conveyances that exist in the tourist ecosystem around Central Park, and said he repairs 50 a week.  At $20 a pop (see what I did there?) that's a cool grand a week in flats alone, unless of course I paid the sucker rate.  (Honestly I have no idea what the going rate is for flat repair these days.)  But I was in no position to haggle at this stage of my journey, and at any rate he earned every penny because I was up and running again just as fast as you can say, "Lemme run across to the ATM real quick," and I was grateful for his services.

Hey, it's pretty much impossible to make it through midtown without parting with $20 one way or another, so consider it congestion pricing.

Finally I crossed the Manhattan Bridge and alighted in Brooklyn, but before dropping off the bike I figured I'd stop at Whole Foods and make one last farewell haul:

The Gowanus Whole Foods has ample bike racks, though even the progressive (by American standards) designers of this yupster flagship didn't account for cargo bikes.  Therefore, parking was a bit awkward, but I made it work:

Then I made scant use of the bike's voluminous hauling capacity by loading up on six (6) whole cans of beer to gift to 718 because I felt guilty about returning the bike in such a filthy state:

Once I'd discharged the bike and the beer, I figured 20 miles of riding a heavy bicycle (which I didn't Strava, by the way, because my Apple watch was acting all wonky) wasn't enough, and so I grabbed a Citi Bike for the next leg of my journey.  Despite its size and heft the Yuba is quite easy to ride, and even my long trip on it was quite manageable.  Still, it was a bit of a relief to get onto a bicycle with a "short" wheelbase, if only because I didn't have to be so careful about accidentally blocking the crosswalks.

It's also worth noting that by now (in Brooklyn anyway) most of the snow had disappeared, though you've got to give motorists credit for still finding a way to obscure their visibility with it:

Seriously, it's two swipes with the snow brush, what's so hard about that?

Then, before leaving Brooklyn, I docked the Citi Bike bought myself a drink:

Because I deserve it, dammit.