Riding a Bike in L.A

On January 17th, 2013, I decided to ride a bike for the first time in Los Angeles. I rode over 20 miles in the city, starting in North Hollywood and ending near Downton L.A. 

A large percentage of people, including Angelenos, are constantly surprised to hear that L.A. has a functioning subway system. Considering its car-centric ethos and sprawling city boundaries, it comes as a shock that there are thousands of miles of connected commuter tunnels underneath Los Angeles. It wasn't until nearly a decade ago, however, that North Hollywood, separated by 8 miles of San Fernando Valley, became connected to the rest of the city via the subterranean Metro Rail system. Theories abound--from collusion with General Motors to lobbying from the Taxi Union--have sought to explain why L.A. is so miserably behind in speedy and reliable public transportation, considering its reputation as such a future-oriented metropolis.

Despite all the bureaucratic hang-ups that have kept the public trans from becoming the next New York or Paris, the subway works well and runs often; enough so that it is a great ancillary source of transportation, especially for those who enjoy riding bikes. At the moment, the train's carriage is wide and unpopulated, leaving ample room at end-cars for bicycle storage. An eight-minute trip from the end of the Red Line in NoHo takes you straight to the Hollywood Walk-of-Fame, a fun area to mill about on a bike and gawk at the lycra-laden actors dressed up as your favorite superhero or villain. 

I lived in L.A. for a month and a half before I finally got my friend's bike fixed, a solidly-built 1970's Seikoand, and ventured out into the city, an area that most commuters make out to be a "cyclist hellhole". I walked my bike to the shop across the street, filled up both tires, adjusted the seat and the brakes and rode up to the Red Line, a main subway artery only a few blocks from my apartment in NoHo, and quickly jumped on the train to Hollywood.

MY JOURNEY

I end up taking the subway a few more stops further and embarking into Silver Lake, an area with a long stretch of bike lane that runs along Sunset Boulevard. It's a nice, long ride with plenty of shops, restaurants and cute hipster girls walking around in black leotards and floppy black hats. Even in the middle of January, it is warm and sunny. I'm wearing a light thermal outside during wintertime and there are no complaints to be had. I continue, sleeves rolled up, to take Sunset all the way downtown and find myself taking a slight detour into Chinatown, a moderately congested strip of knick-knack shops, fish markets and jewelry stores.

I ride my bike through a mixture of of tourists and locals while an old man plays an Erhu, a two-stringed bowed instrument that is like a folksier violin set upright. I park my bike, walk around, eat some delicious deep-fried shrimp, look in a Chinese book store and then meander into the Jewelry district, a set of semi-identical, brightly-lit shops selling various flashy accoutrements.

It was beginning to get dark, so I hop back on my bike and ride into downtown. Even for rush hour, the streets are wide and never once felt stressful to navigate. One of the great things about riding in L.A. is that no matter what street you end up on, there usually is a fairly wide sidewalk to ride on if the situation ever gets too hairy. Also, at night-time, most streets are virtually empty, so as long as you are properly illuminated, the streets are yours after dusk.

After several blocks, I run into a large crowd of people standing on the sidewalk. I pull over to investigate what they're congregating around, and it turns out to be a DVD of a late-80s Michael Jackson concert, the audio blasted through a music store's heavy-duty P.A. system. I end up watching for a while, finding myself mysteriously wrapped into a very "L.A." moment--people interrupting their daily life for synthetic entertainment. The longer I stay, the more people crowd around, until there were at least an audience of 30, rapt with attention. Some of them even begin attempting to mimic the King of Pop's dance moves on the sidewalk pavement.

I decide to explore inside the store, which still has the DVD music playing, but even louder. Suddenly, the owner shuts off all of the lights and turns on multiple fog-machines and lasers, converting the store into an impromptu dance club; none of the shoppers seem to mind. It feels to me like something the managers did quite often when they were tired of standing behind the counter.

I cycle further into downtown and board the red line back to Hollywood and Highland station. After a 15 minute trip, I hop off and emerge from the subway into a sea of neon lights and milling tourists. Hollywood Boulevard has ersatz diamonds crushed up into the asphalt, lending the street a glittery, supernatural feel amidst the traffic. I end up riding a mile in the wrong direction on the street, but was not worried, as the air was still mild and the mood relaxed. I cruised a mile over to La Brea and rode downhill for another mile to a Comic Book store my friend was performing open-mic stand-up comedy at.

The room in the back of the store was packed with eager comedians chattering, waiting to hear whether or not they were to get selected for the line-up that evening. My friend and her friend did not get picked in the lottery to perform, so they decided to eat food across the street. I went with them for a little bit and then rode 5 miles back to Silver Lake to meet a friend at a bar for Soul Night. During my nighttime riding, I never once felt unsafe or worried about being hit by cars. There are plenty of side streets and although L.A. drivers may speed insanely along the freeways, but they don't seem to make many irrational maneuvers in the calmer areas of town.

I still have many more adventures riding in L.A ahead of me, but so far, I think the city gets a tremendously bad rap for not being a 'biking city' when the weather is agreeable year-round and perfectly navigable in tandem with the public transportation system. I believe that a certain mentality has been in place for too long, that you're 'insane' to even think about biking or that you 'have to have a car' when all it takes is a little bit of courage and ingenuity to get out there and start riding. The city can be your oyster if you subscribe to these thoughts.