New Bike, Urban Hollering.

Riding my bike in London is an absolute pleasure. When it rained, I came back soaking wet, I always arrive at work sweaty, I often have bike grease on my calves and on my fingers, and I love it. Cyclists are the fastest vehicles in Central London, because we get to skip the queue at stoplights and heavy traffic does not slow us down. Drivers are generally respectful and mindful of cyclists. And the privilege of getting lost with a much wider range than before has already opened up and contextualized neighborhoods that were once discrete islands in my mind, joined only by the Underground. Plus I found a zoo.

Maybe the only downside -- if it is a downside -- is that, when on my bike, I sometimes forget that I am not in a little bubble, and that other people can still hear me. I catch myself yelling silly things to myself, like "hoo-ah" or "I'm a-very speedy on my-a-bikey bikey". The other day, I noticed an elderly gentleman at a bus stop staring, and I realized I had been shouting "mushaboom mushaboom". A small price to pay, I say.