What I have for you below is not one scenario, one experience... but a number of occurrences and observations which have all led me to the sneaking suspicion that the majority of the shirt-and-tie commuters I encounter on the tracks of NJ Transit are true drunkards.
My round trip affords me ample time to observe the driving habits of my brethren with time left to finish my novel, double check the meaning of "miasma" and dissect every turning point in my life that led me to this commute.
I paced down the steps of my platform with false optimism on my side until I nearly tripped over an object laid upon the floor just round the corner from the steps. With coffee and balance intact, I looked back to notice a crow on the platform floor. A dead crow.
My train had just left Penn and was heading back to reality, back to where things made sense to me, where I felt a form of comfort. Yes, I'm talking about New Jersey. Deal with it. I assure you there are far worse places to be...
On the way back I was reminded of how little regard both motorists and pedestrians have for cyclists. These near misses and behaviors motivated me to highlight the following safety reminders for cyclists maneuvering in a city yet to fully embrace our presence on the road.
Although they lag behind their European counterparts, American cities are becoming more and more bike-friendly. A growing number are launching bike sharing schemes -- New York and Chicago being the latest -- and bike lanes continue to grow in mileage nationwide.
We all want love more than anything in the world, but when we spew animosity rooted in our own lack of self-love, no one will come close. We really don't matter, and I mean that in the most freeing way possible.
The key advantage of traveling by bike over working out at a fitness center is that most people find it easier to do. Instead of vying for scarce free time with many other fun and important things, exercise becomes something we do naturally as part of daily routine.
Since moving to Singapore seven months ago, I have become blasé about securing my bike to anything sturdy by means of using something sturdy. Like most expats, I have been unconsciously seduced by the city-state's rock-bottom crime rate and apparent nonexistence of the scourge that we call theft.
I am always curious to see what others have in their train bags; some who travel far carry entire activity bags with them full of Sodoku puzzles and a bookshelf worth of fiction, and some just their iPod and chapstick.