Travels

“You’re sure you want to do this?”, I asked.

“Absolutely”, she answered, “We’ve bought the bikes and now that we have them I want to ride to work.”

“Okey Dokey then…..and you’re sure you know the way?” I asked.

“Yup”, said she, exuding confidence.

(I located and printed out a turn-by-turn sheet of directions anyway…just in case!)

So there we were….she was going to ride her bike to work and, because I’d shot off my big mouth assuring her that when we got bikes I’d ride with her…both ways so that she wouldn’t have to worry if something went wrong…,so was I.

It’s not really a big deal, I thought, it’s only about 9 km (a shade over 5 mi) and Holland is flat as a pancake.

It turns out though that in spite of the years I’ve spent on a bicycle saddle I can still be surprised by…well, everything!

First of all, yes, Holland is flat as a pancake… a pancake with a constant 12 to 25 mph breeze that’s always in your face. Now, add to that the fact that street names seem to be only loosely coupled to the streets and that said names are stuck up on the corners of building where you may or may not be able to see them.

Station Wagon

Additionally, at intersections there are 3 different sets of traffic signals….one for the autos, one for the pedestrians and a completely separate one for the bicycles. The latter two sets seem to be only strong suggestions…ignored by some, adhered to by others. Oh, and one other thing…it seems that here the streets are required to change their already unpronounceable names every hundred yards or so!

All of these things add up to a navigation nightmare! Then we throw in the bicycling culture that exists here, everybody rides at about 15mph while talking on their cell phone (illegal), texting (also illegal), smoking a cigarette (often with that ‘amsterdam tobacco’ (cannabis)), two kids in their bike seats, groceries in the basket and the family dog on a leash.

Pickup Truck

Needless to say one is expected to ride as if one knows where they’re going. Predictability is the key to a smooth commute. I’ve got to say that we’ve initially failed that test!

It all started out ok….we walked up the street to the bike garage, used our electronic key to enter, unlocked our bikes, saddled up and headed back down Beethovenstraat.

In all the time I’ve spent on a bike I can’t remember ever being so surrounded by others doing the same thing. It felt strange, natural, scary and comforting all at the same time. There were men in business suits, women in dresses riding along wearing 3 and 4-inch heels. There were gray-haired old men and women still cranking along at speed with coffee in one hand. Little kids riding along on their way to school. Everyone moving at about the same rate…smooth traffic flow….flat, paved ground. How idyllic.

Taxi

Got to Stadionweg and made our first turn, a right. Stadionweg is a much busier street than Beethovenstraat but the bike lanes are well marked and equally well respected by motorists. No problem, I thought, this is going to be a breeze.
Next turn, another right onto Marathonweg. Hmmm, not so well marked….almost missed it. No worries though, it was just because of the construction in the area. I checked my cheat-sheet to find that the next change is to Bernardkochstraat. I never did find that but the next turn is through a roundabout onto Amstelveensweg.

Whoa, roundabouts on a bicycle are really something here….the bikes have their own lane outside the traffic circle and the autos give way to the bikes (they say). The result is that autos, pedestrians, bikes and trams may all have to cross paths….talk about putting your head on a swivel! Everyone handles it with aplomb, though.

As I went around the roundabout I looked and looked but couldn’t find Amstelvenseweg. “No worries”, said BJ, “I remember this part”. And away she went. I pedaled after her. A few blocks later we were still looking for Havenstraat which we should have found just a couple hundred meters after the roundabout. We never did find it.

Periodically as we rode BJ would announce that she recognized something and we’d alter course. By this time my cheat sheet was useless and we were on to using the iPhone’s GPS and google maps. BJ’s projected 45 min (at the worst) ride was stretching past the hour mark.

Lorry

The GPS showed us getting closer but not quickly. Then we came to an intersection that BJ thought looked familiar. “I think if we just go straight here this leads to work” she said.

After a mile or so she was even more certain but the ride was starting to wear on her. BJ hasn’t been on a bike for a few years and she was starting to feel it. Also, as we were now on a long, straight section of road well outside the sheltering buildings of the city we were faced with a pretty good headwind.

Largely alone in the bike lane, I rode up next to BJ and hooked a finger through her belt-loop to add a little pull to her efforts. It’s amazing how much easier just a little bit of help makes a ride feel. This was exactly what she needed to power through this last bit. And we chuckled as we rode the remaining couple of miles to Taylor. We hadn’t done too badly. Our 8 or 9 kilometer ride had only stretched to 11.5 k.

She received accolades from the rest of the crew upon our arrival. They seemed to be impressed that she wasn’t just ‘all talk’ about biking to work. I hung around there for a little bit, drank water and made some adjustments to her bike. The shift mechanism had been periodically misbehaving and shifting unexpectedly on the ride in. I found that a small adjustment was enough to put it right. Then we added a little air to her tires and raised her seat a few centimeters. It felt a lot better after that.

It was time for me to move along. I was hoping I could remember the way. And hey, I had my trusty cheat-sheet. This time, I thought, I’ll just take my time and be more careful about the turns.

A world of Bicycles

Well, to make a long story short (er), I got home some 90 minutes and 14 kilometers later. I’d been lost, lost-er, and had seemingly circumnavigated the city of Amsterdam. I’d been passed by little old ladies who were riding as though in a high-stakes criterium. I’d been buzzed by idiots on Vespa-type scooters which are, (unbelievably), legally allowed in the bike lanes and I’d found entirely new ways to irritate car, truck and tram drivers all over town.

On the plus side, I’d seen parts of the city that were completely new to me. On the down side I was tired and concerned that I’d have to ride back out there that afternoon per my promise to ride both ways with Barbara.

She saved me, though, when she called and said her legs were tired and so she was going to ride the tram home tonight. She figured to tram in the next morning and ride home that evening. Good enough for me!

I showered and took a nap!