First Ride of the New Age

Date: 29 September 2010

Day of Chronicles: 1

Hours: 5:30-7:30pm

Rides Given: 1

First day back on the streets.

I was busy discreetly weeping at a red light in Times Square (after circling, rideless, for an hour and a half, and receiving a particularly snide "No, thank you" from a young business couple on Sixth Avenue - yes, I need to develop a thicker skin) when a middle-aged gentleman with a soft southern accent approached and asked, “How far do you go?” (yes, this was a serious inquiry; no, it was not a come-on). I said, "As far as you’re going, as long as it’s not over a bridge." He and his female companion climbed in, and I drove them, without incident, to Fifteenth Street and Fifth Avenue.

Back when I used to hitch-hike, I believed it was important to discern why someone was giving me a ride - if I couldn't discern an honorable motive, then perhaps there was a dishonorable one, and I had better not get in (or, in instances of grave misjudgment, find a way to bail). People who take pedicab rides, like people who pick up hitch-hikers, are the exception rather than the rule. And so, I reason, each of my passengers must also have a reason. What makes these few, among the hundreds insisting on taxicabs, willing to take a chance on a vehicle that doesn't guzzle gas?

In this case the man - visiting from Charlotte, North Carolina - seemed to think this was simply a legitimate Yankee form of transportation (I gleaned from the respectful tone of his initial approach). The woman, a New Yorker, said she'd seen pedicabs around, but had always been too drunk to think about taking one, or too busy walking. Both commented on what a lovely night it was, and how pleasant to be out in it, as we rolled downtown.

In the past I’ve been very worried about getting people places fast – and sometimes that’s what they want. Sometimes they're rushing to make a train, or get to a show. But this pair clearly wasn’t in a hurry. So I maintained an even pace, kept lung-burn at bay, and enjoyed the solid satisfaction of pulling weight down a newly smooth Seventh Avenue - which reminded me of how much fun I used to have (on a farm in North Carolina) pushing wheelbarrow loads of sand, heavier in front, over a level dirt path. I suppose it's possible to find gainful ways to exert oneself, no matter where one lives.

Prolog: How I Got Hooked on Giant Tricycles

Let's start with the back story:

I learned how to ride a giant trike in October 2008, when I started working for Revolution Rickshawscargo courier. I spent the next seven months hauling loads of five to a thousand pounds, fifteen to forty hours per week: Cupcakes, fruit bouquets, gift baskets. Cheese, catering, wine. Juice, pizza crust, hard drives. In that time I participated in a couple group-transfers, arranged by RR, but barely considered hitting the streets, on a pedicab, as a free agent. It was hard enough pedaling a one-hundred-seventy-pound trike in traffic; it seemed thoroughly daunting to be responsible for selling my services on the spot, on top of that. as a

But I couldn't completely dismiss the prospect of pedicabbing. I knew that it held great potential for generating both exhilaration and cash flow. So, in October 2009, I decided to try it. I wanted to see if (prove?) I could do it. I started pedaling a few evenings a week, during rush hour. I made a bunch of money on Halloween, and experienced the Bangladesh rush (that is, the rare thrill of rounding Columbus Circle amidst a massive swarm of rickshaws) on Marathon Sunday. I also despaired, many times, of ever getting another fare. Sick of the cycle of highs and lows, I quit towards the end of November. I'd proven (to my satisfaction) that I could indeed make money driving a pedicab and, I figured, that was good enough.

Fast forward a good ten months, to late September 2010. I'm just back from a month at an artists' colony, and less than excited about returning to my desk job. Halloween's coming up, once again, and though I know I may fail, I decide to give the streets another try. This time, though, I'm going to keep track of the highs and lows. I'm going to tell the stories that make the practice of pedicabbing fascinating, whether it's going well or badly. And, though I by no means claim to be a typical pedicab driver, I'm going to attempt to create something for which I've so far searched in vain: A faithful chronicle of the process of learning, day by day, profitably to drive a giant tricycle through the miraculous madness of my city, Manhattan.