The new Ritchey Cross Breakaway had survived the international flight and an inspection by the TSA just fine, despite my worries otherwise. Having come down with a bad cold the day prior, I was determined to stick with the plan to ride with Shane up to Caron’s in Bounds Green Friday afternoon, stopping along the way to pick out Shane’s new ‘cross bike. As I followed him through the traffic, I must admit I was having a hard time remembering why I had previously enjoyed this type of riding. The diesel exhaust was suffocating and I offended at least several people with my cold-necessitated farmer’s blows.

The bike shop was a pleasant surprise after prior reconnaissance missions had revealed less-than-knowledgeable and unimpassioned staff. Upon entering Two Wheel Good with the Ritchey, a guy wearing a Rabobank jacket strode right up to the bike, quite excited about finally getting to see a Breakaway up close. This is a good sign, I thought. Rabobank and I nattered a bit about bikes and then got right to the task of ordering up Shane’s Trek XO, who was quite pleased to let his “bike broker” do all the talking.

Saturday, I rode back to the flat armed with the most direct route and a map, of course. As inevitable as the diesel exhaust while cycling in London, is the chance of taking the wrong street and needing to stop multiple times to consult said map, with the possibility of feeling quite proud of oneself for “recognizing” the streets, only to realize that said streets are familiar only because one has managed to end up circling back the way one just came… not that I would know anything about this sometimes frustrating experience. But alas, navigational victory would come my way, as I remembered my old to-school route on Monday morning when riding to catch the train to Euston Station to meet up with Ray on the other end.

By Tuesday evening, when I disembarked at Marylebone for the half-hour ride back to the flat, it all came back. It was post-work timing and the streets were busy. I moved up between the cars to the advance stop line at every stop light and tried to keep up with a couple guys on fixed gears. After multiple standing-start sprints, I began to sweat and then smile. England’s next track stars will be born on the streets of London, there is no doubt. The rush of dodging the double-deckers and taxis and motorbikes, all senses keen, is better than a criterium any day. On one stretch of road where there was an actual bike lane, there were so many cyclists cruising along, that it qualified as traffic. I couldn’t believe it. I had noticed a marked increase in the number of cyclists since two years ago, but this was insane! I had to scoot out into the regular lane to keep up with my target. By Bethnal Green road, I decided to say hello to the guy I’d been following and we had a nice chat about how many more people were commuting by bike now. He said he actually leaves a bit earlier for work to avoid the “bike traffic!” If only we’d see this day in an American city…