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.