Caroline shared a charming bike story about our neighborhood last month, which prompted me to tell one of my own from a couple of weeks ago. Having biked in New York since I moved here three years ago and crossed the Manhattan bridge more times than I care to count, I’ve become a reasonably strong rider. To the point where I pass something like 9 out of 10 riders I encounter on my commute (and I don’t doubt there are a number of speed demons I never see because I never catch up to them). The point being, if I see someone else on a bike, it’s usually not too long before I pass them, and if I’m still trailing (or if they pass me) I often push myself to keep up. It’s just a way to keep things interesting.

So it was that I found myself on the crown of the Manhattan bridge pedaling hard, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone gaining on me. As we both began our decline and sped into Chinatown, he kept gaining on me and it was all I could do to keep a few feet ahead. Finally, on the last stretch of the path before the winding exit ramp, he pulled up alongside me and to my surprise, spoke:

“You dropped five dollars!”

“Oh! Thanks!”

“The guy behind me has it.”

And with that, he sped on, and I slowed to the bottom of the ramp where I waited as a few bikers passed until the man carrying my money came around the bend.

Only later did it occur to me that even on a moderately calm day, a $5 bill wouldn’t last long on the windy surface of the bike path. So it’s somewhat remarkable that two people busily in their own commute managed this little rescue (and much appreciated, considering that back then $5 was all the money I had on me and probably more than 1/10 of my net worth). New Yorkers are (contrary to some stereotypes) generally helpful people, but this is the kind of experience that you can only find amongst those who brave the city by bike.