- Samurai

Have you ever sat around with close friends, or even strangers, having beers, playing Risk, and the conversation suddenly turns to bicycles? Do you nervously shift your gaze away, hoping nobody asks your opinion, because you are well into your twenties and have still not learned to ride a bike?

For twenty-two years, I lived the life of a pedestrian-motorist. Growing up in the ghettos of Miami, I was not allowed to leave the house until I was seventeen. Miami was so spread out and urbanized, I did not feel that riding a bicycle was necessary since I could already drive. When I moved to Boston a couple years ago, only then did I realize the impact of cycling on everyday life and felt horribly embarrassed in not knowing how to do a seemingly rudimentary thing. When friends went out and decided to ride bicycles to their destination, I stayed home, often in shame that I was unable to do something that most people mastered at age 7.

Then, I met the Baron.

The Baron was a red, short, stout reverse trike with a bad temper. His sissy bar was on the smallish side, but I didn't let that bother me. With very little time for formalities, I mounted the beast and hoped for the best. I rode him for four glorious hours.

Soon after my night with the baron, I started riding two-wheelers, even going so far as building my own. My life was since irrevocably changed. I'd like to offer this advice to those in my shoes, who desire the rush of riding down a moderate hill but are too scared to set the gears in motion:

• You are not alone. It may feel as though you are wearing a scarlet chain ring on your chest, but there are others out there who have never even touched a bicycle before.

• Seduce your bike with maintenance. Look at your bike, admire its stark geometry or luscious curves and tighten its nuts. Squeeze the tires firmly, yet lovingly, and inflate as necessary. Lube the beast, especially in those hard to reach places. Give it a shiny new blinky or bell and let it preen. Showing your bike that you care will come across in how it carries you across the world.

• Size does matter. You can lube the thing all you want, but you will not get very far if your feet won't reach the pedals. Your first time will be all the more amazing if you are comfortable on and with your cycle.

• Some people need total privacy during their first time. Others don't mind a bit of voyeurism. Sometimes playing music helps ease the tension. However, your bike may try to get you drunk in order to get you to lighten up and finally ride it. RESIST THE URGE!! There are way too many people who have woken up with a raging hangover, bike grease smeared all over their body, a u-lock around their left ankle, asking themselves, “oh man, what did I DO last night?” never having known or remembered their first ride.

• Protect yourself. There is no such thing as a safe ride so don a helmet, proper lights and reflective gear (if riding at night), and other bodily armor. That being said, a good fall may awaken your inner masochist. After the third time I fell off of the baron, his immense steel body sandwiching me to the ground, I no longer feared the salty sting of the pavement's kiss. In fact, I welcomed it. The more I desired this union of rock and flesh, the less it happened.

• Don't be discouraged if your first ride is not what you dreamt it would be. Some people experience great pain and discomfort while others walk away unscathed. Although my first ride lasted for hours, I woke the next day to a not-so-welcome gift from my baron; a cluster of bruises on my ass, forming a small semi-circle of misery, a carbon copy of his sissy bar. However, when all was said and done, I couldn't wait to do it all over again. And again. And again.