it was full dark when i rode home from the ladies' bike maintenance workshop. while it was my second class, it was the first time i realized the workshops take place in the basement of the legendary abc no rio. the space is tiny, the bathroom is disgusting and unlit and a giant rat skulked across the floor during our class, but it's enough. i like how all you need is someone who knows what they're talking about, a bike, a few parts and some interested parties to put on the classes. i go to the ladies only class to avoid male bike machismo and the group is surprisingly diverse. well, mostly white, but very diverse in terms of age and income, why we ride, why we want to learn how our bikes work. i had a similar experience when i went on the coney island ride, which i may or may not have written about already. i expected the group to be mostly dirty anarchists but there were all types and all bikes. back in the basement we learned about brakes- different types of brakes, how they work and how to adjust them. the laid-back instructor encouraged us to give it a try on one of the bikes in the basement, so we all gathered around a girl with ratty red dredlocks who nervously cranked on one of the bolts until it snapped in two. note: do not over tighten bolt. i learned that my bike has mountain bike cables and v-brakes. i learned why stephanie's brakes squeal. technically i understand how to fix it, but i don't quite dare to bust in on her bike like a bull in a china shop.
afterwards i rode home over the williamsburg bridge. the moon was big and right before me. it was quiet but the bridge was full of other bikers flashing their little red butt-lights. every time i bike over a new york bridge at night i'm struck by how true the clichés of new york as an overwhelming experience of lights are. most nights i'd trade it for stars, but man is it impressive.