The first thing I wanted to do, after returning from the Netherlands to Atlanta, late on May 15, was to get back on my e-bike.
Out went Opa Fiets. In came the Old Fietser.
I wanted to feel the difference between riding around Maarssen and riding around Atlanta. I found a route about as long as a trip back-and-forth to Utrecht and set off to see an old friend.
There were big differences as soon as I climbed aboard. A lot of my weight now rested on my hands, with my body shifted forward. I can sit upright by stretching my arms out on a flat road, but there aren’t many in Atlanta. Instead, there are these washer boards, with pothole divots and newly covered water line repairs, which force me to look down at the road instead of up at the scenery.
There isn’t much of that around you here, either. Just mile after mile of single family homes, often on lots that would hold castles outside Utrecht. Here they are occupied by ordinary doctors, lawyers, and corporate executives.
Then there are the hills. In the Netherlands, a hill is a bridge over the river or a highway. Here, they’re everywhere. There, you need to put your power on high and pound the pedals to reach the top. Here, a more powerful motor let me glide uphill at 15 mph (25 kph), the maximum speed under the Dutch system. Then there are the downhills, freewheeling along at 25 mph (40 kph), a speed I never achieved in Europe. You need the stronger motor for the uphill run, but it lets you ride comfortably on a flat stretch at about 20 mph (30 kph).
Traffic
What makes all the difference between the two experiences is traffic. There were no bike paths on my route today, and while I could coast at 25, cars blew past a foot away from me at 40 and faster. I could dance on the pedals here, moving the wheel left-and-right, knowing I wasn’t in another bike’s way. But I had to keep a sharp eye on my rear view for trucks, and a sharp ear out as well.
I thought the experiences were symmetrical until a few minutes after my ride, when I stepped out for some celebratory wine. There, 100 feet from my house, in the crosswalk of a three-lane road, some idiot in a big Chevy blew right past at full speed, getting inside of a meter, his eyes entirely focused on his left turn a block away.
I’m home.
