Date: 5 November 2010
Day of Chronicles: 10
Hours: 3:30-4:30pm, 5:00-7:15pm
Rides Given: 5
Honestly, there's more money to be made out there, and I know it. But I was really hungry, and I'd met my goal for the night, so I decided to quit while I was ahead. Repeat after me: One of the perks of driving a pedicab is that I set my own hours. Deep breath. One of the perks of driving a pedicab is that I set my own hours. Deep breath...
This afternoon (OMG!) I was pulled over for the first time ever (not because I'm such a perfect rule-follower, but because I've done very little motor-vehicle driving, and I haven't been pedicabbing regularly for all that long). I had, yes, done a Bad Thing - I'd crossed from the east to the west side of 7th Avenue, at 31st Street, by steering between the crosswalk and the phalanx of cars stopped at the red light. The cop also thought I hadn't signaled my right turn onto 31st Street, since he hadn't seen any light blinking on the front of my pedicab body. ("Some of the pedicabs have those blinkers on the front," he said.) I assured him that I had indeed signaled, that my pedicab had just been inspected by the DCA a day earlier (that's why it had the pretty yellow sticker), and that my turn signals were perfectly acceptable under the law. I demonstrated that they worked, on both sides, twice.
He granted me my turn signals.
Still, there was the issue of the Very Bad lane change. So he took my motor vehicle license and pedicab license and went away for a few minutes, leaving me to reckon with becoming an adult, and taking responsibility for my actions, and accepting that interacting with the NYPD comes with the territory of driving a pedicab. Then he came back and told me he couldn't find anything to get me on, so he was going to have to let me go. I thanked him, agreed that I had done a Bad Thing, and moved on. Hallelujah!
The reason I was rushing to turn west on 31st Street was that I suspected one or both of the back wheels on my trike were dragging. I wasn't totally sure, but I didn't want to get stuck with a bum trike all night. In a sense, this is more a psychological than a physical problem - I've gone riding with a bum trike, and not known till much later it was a bum trike, and done just fine. The problem arises when I know or suspect I have a bum trike, and then get demoralized because I know or suspect that I'm working harder than I have to.
In any case - I'm glad I heeded my suspicion. I did switch trikes, and my new trike ran a heck of a lot better. Hallelujah!
One thing I noticed tonight was how good passengers are at selling me on the value of the ride. When I started pedicabbing, I suffered from a severe lack of self-confidence - why would anyone want to get in this weird contraption anyway? But once you've listened to a couple dozen people rhapsodize, from the passenger seat, about what a great time they're having, and how this is the most fun thing ever, and they can't believe they're actually doing this, actually riding a rickshaw in New York City - you begin to understand the extent of the contribution you're making. Who posts status updates about, whoo-whee, taking a taxi ride? Who calls her BFF/parent/significant other to say, "OMG, you would not believe, I am riding, right now, in a taxi?"
Nobody does. Riding in a gas-guzzling yellow cab is no big deal. Riding in a pedicab is a god-blessed adventure.
Hallelujah!
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