Bike Party

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This week is the week all Northeasterners dream about—that magical time when the weather is in the 70s, the sun sets late, and the bugs haven't returned from their winter slumber.

It's the slim window of time when this region feels like a typical Southern California day. We get a handful of these days every year, so we savor them.

Last night was no exception—so it made for a divine moment to start the 2025 season of Norwalk's Bike Party.

For the past few years, Sustainable Streets has been running these on Friday evenings throughout the spring and summer. This year, the organizers recruited me to help get the new season rolling.

It was so fun, so refreshing, so healthy. And easy enough. Let's dish:

First, overcoming the initial barrier to entry

I've biked plenty in my adult life. I commuted for years from Brooklyn to Manhattan on a daily basis—so I'm not unfamiliar with biking and how to stay safe.

That experience goes both ways—I also know how much of a pain it can be to maintain a biking life in an urban setting.

Just to get my old bike back up to speed here in Norwalk, I had to:

1. Get it tuned up ($100+ after my failed attempts to tune it up myself)
2. Secure storage (for my situation, $10/mo to the apartment building for secure storage
3. A good lock
4. A helmet
5. A new phone mount
6. Working front and rear lights (had to dig out old ones, replace batteries, retire some busted ones)
7. A car bike rack to get the bike to and from the bike shop
8. Knowledge of how to actually securely install that bike rack on your car (often not as easy as it looks)
9. Ongoing: Air in the tires, brake adjustments
10. Knowledge of how to navigate the streets in this area. Where are the bike lanes? When do you have to navigate less-than-ideal streets to get where you need to go? Where are the pot holes, or the spots where drivers tend to be extra dangerous to you? Where are the unexpected inclines that are going to make you sweat?

All of this is to say: there can be a bit of a barrier to entry for someone just getting started, even if you have experience.

Naturally, in the midst of some of the more frustrating moments, some voice of doubt questioned whether all of this was worth the trouble.

Assembling the crew

I arrived to the meeting point a few minutes early, I taking the time to make some adjustments.

The start time came. The start time passed. The questions started.

Was I in the right place? Double check: Yes.

Right day and time? Yes.

I post in the group chat for the rides. "I'm here, I think!" with a photo of my location.

Then, a trickle of responses. "Almost there." "Leaving now."

I remember now—the event starts at 7:00 but the actual ride doesn't start until 7:20. It's stated on the event page. Another message comes in to confirm my new suspicion:

"Yeah, a lot of people tend to show up at the last minute."

One friend arrives. Then another. We're in business.

Did I briefly entertain the notion that I would sit alone in that park for a while and then just go home? You bet! Amazing how after all these years that moment still comes and goes when trying something new.

Before I know it, a crew has assembled. Lots of OG Bike Partiers from previous years. A few new faces. Now we have a new problem: more people are on their way and running late.

Given it's our first meeting of the season, we opt to wait for even the latest arrivals before setting off. I'm taking notes for next time, naturally.

I'm horrible with names. I start a new Apple Note for Bike Party, knowing I'll be referring to it and adding to it every time out from here on. I jot down a few names as I'm able—I'll try to write down more later while the memories are still fresh.

The veteran members of Sustainable Streets, eager to nurture new leadership, direct attention to me—despite my never having done this before. Heck, I just got my bike from the shop. This was my first day ever even biking in this town!

Once I feel like we have almost everyone, I call for us to huddle up.

We have a bout a dozen people assembled.

"For how many people is this your first Bike Party?" A few hands go up, including mine.

"For how many people is this your literal first day ever biking in Norwalk?" Only my hand goes up. It was meant to be a little self-effacing humor to break the ice. I earn a few smiles.

For this context, I don't mind making it clear where I stand: I'm new, I'm NOT the person to answer most questions, but I'm also comfortable facilitating this and taking the lead as needed. Everyone gets a chance to orient.

I call out some of the veterans on hand, who will be in charge of setting the route and managing any other logistics of the actual ride. We self-select a navigator and "front of the pack" person. Another volunteers to bring up the back.

This is an all-ages, all-skills ride: no spandex cycling kit here. We want to make it clear: all are welcome to this ride. We're not here to prove anything on our two wheels except for the fact that we can get together and do this, and it can be wonderful.

Since we're waiting for late arrivals, I take the chance to pry the group a little further.

"I think almost all of you know each other, but let's do this anyway. Let's go around real quick with your names. I'm Tony." I point to the first person to my left. We whip around the circle quick.

Now, anyone here who forgot someone's name got their bailout. I got your back, fellow bad-at-names person!

I try my best to retain at least a few new names while dedicating almost all my brain power to holding space for the group.

I know we are still buying time for a late arrival.

"Okay! Since we have a moment—who has a win to share this week?"

This crew doesn't require much handholding—the responses come quick. One is a Pre-K teacher, proud of their young student's restroom achievement. It gets a laugh. Another literally just closed on his new apartment downtown that very day. Cheers and applause!

The group is quickly becoming less anonymous—at least to me. Most of these folks already know each other well, which makes kicking this thing off that much easier.

One passerby wanders past us on this bike.

"Hey we're doing a group bike ride, want to join?" says the veteran organizer in the group.

"Sure. I'm Sebastian." we have a new member of the crew, just like that.

I reflect for a moment: Sebastian was just chilling. He was working his way to the beach, where we were going too, to meet up with a few friends, but he wasn't on a schedule. It was a perfect Friday night and he was going for a ride. This level of freedom mentality is something I admire. Maybe something for me to practice.

Finally! The last person we're expecting has arrived. It's a blessing: if we didn't wait for him, we would have missed several other latecomers we weren't expecting.

I wonder if other folks, like me, were working out the kinks in getting their bikes ready and figuring out how to safely navigate to the meeting point. I bet folks will show up a little more on time in the future.

All good. Let's roll!

No!

Wait!

First, we gotta get a selfie:

Okay, NOW let's roll!

A third class citizen no longer

I haven't participated in a group ride in a very long time, so I was surprised how good it felt right away to be riding in a pack.

Cyclists are used to being the lowest on the transportation totem pole. We share the pavement with cars, which are bigger and faster and can kill us very easily, and with pedestrians, whom we can harm or scare very easily ourselves. Roads are for cars; sidewalks are for pedestrians; we are lucky if we get a bit of paint on the streets to designate space for us. If we're really lucky we find a dedicated trail.

We're constantly balancing our safety with etiquette and adhering to the law. We just have to expect that cars will be annoyed by us, and riding on the sidewalk to avoid danger might invite angry pedestrians. It's a constant balancing act.

But as a group? We are safer. We are bigger. We are more visible.

Cars yield for us—there are too many to ignore.

On some streets, we take up the whole car lane. On certain roads it is legal and there are even sometimes signs to indicate as such.

(It's that painted bike with the three arrows that tells you when this is appropriate—but don't expect drivers to know that!)

The point being: in this group, riding around town together, we can relax a little. We can feel like the streets are a little more ours. And we can enjoy the company of friends.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that several in attendance are pros. They know the roads, they know the rules, and they have very bright lights. 🙂

A couple members fire up some music at a tasteful volume. It makes the whole experience that much more of an... experience.

Inevitably, folks riding near each other start chatting. Small talk. Getting to know each other better. Pointing out things we're riding past.

We discover parts of town we'd never seen before—places you would never go when traveling from Point A to Point B in a car.

Gosh this town is beautiful.

The sun is setting. The light is gorgeous. The weather is perfect. I'm moving my body, getting exercise without straining myself.

The bike feels good. Going to all that trouble was worth it.

My relationship to this city and its people is going to change this summer, for the better.

Regrouping

We arrive at the beach. We smell the salt water breeze. We stop, appropriately, at a bike tune-up station. We chat briefly, realizing that next Friday is the weekend of Mother's Day—and there's a planned happy hour for the organization that night anyway. So our next Bike Party will be in two weeks.

Before we roll back towards home, we set expectations for what happens next: you're expected to peel away as your personal route home dictates.

Several folks are meeting at a restaurant after the ride. I head home to Christina, who's just finishing cooking dinner. She's even wearing an apron!

In this moment, this is exactly the life we wanted.

She'll join me on the next ride.

Let the sweet summer season begin.

Recipe: Bike Party

Ingredients:

1. A working bike and associated gear
2. Access to at least a few fellow casual bike enthusiasts
3. A working knowledge of safe bike routes (or a person who brings it)
4. A date, time, and meeting spot
5. (Optional) A speaker for music
6. (Optional) Crazy LED lights for your wheels

Steps:

1. Find your starting crew. Identifying fellow bike enthusiasts in your town shouldn't be TOO hard, but it might take some effort depending on where you are.
2. Pick a location, date, and time. Leverage veteran knowledge and old habits wherever possible—it's always easier if you're building on something people are already familiar with.
3. Tune up. Make sure your gear is good to go. Check lamp batteries, etc.
4. Familiarize yourself. I relied heavily on veterans in attendance—if you can't count on that, make sure you know where the group can go. Anticipate potential surprises and design for them.
5. Show up early. Give yourself extra time if this is new for you.
6. Savor that moment when you think nobody's going to show up. It likely won't last long.
7. Get to know folks as they arrive. Pro tip: the first person to show up is very often a future super member or co-organizer. Look out for opportunities to nurture relationships.
8. Know your timing: how long, roughly, will the ride be? When should we expect to be done? (Aim for no more than 90 minutes.)
9. Set expectations: this is a casual ride. No rider is too slow. All are welcome.
10. Designate someone to ride in front and someone to ride in back.
11. Make space for questions.
12. Go! Enjoy it!
13. No, wait, take a selfie! This is hugely important for promoting the next one.
14. Okay, now go!
15. Soak it up. Discover your city. Feel the breeze. Notice the warmth in your quads. Chat up someone new. Love where you live.
16. Collect contact info from any newcomers of folks you pick up along the way.
17. Set the next date and make sure everyone's psyched for it.

Start a Bike Party in your town. It's the perfect time of year for it.

Interested? Drop a comment please <3