Ever tried riding a bike to an airport? It can be nigh well impossible. Ronald Regan’s airport in Washington has a cycle trail running right to it, then past it, but with no way into the airport itself, lest one dare ride on the expressway with all those highly distracted drivers scratching their heads about where to stop. Eventually I rode in to a back of house area, where a cheeky lady working for a hire car company gave me a private escort in one of their cars, me in her slip stream, the whole event very furtive, and wonderful fun, as much for her as myself.
To get back to Boston airport riding my bike, I realise I would have to approach via Canada. My only other option, is taking a taxi, because the trains don’t start running early enough to get me there in time for my forthcoming 6am flight. This doesn’t surprise me at all though. Boston is the least cycling friendly city I’ve found North of Sydney. The drivers are ignorant shits: ironic, given a PhD is virtually a prerequisite to owning anything at all, in this arch college town. Did you know cycling is banned in half of the parks around here? The politics is a politics of fear, nerdy intellectuals in their ivory towers, paranoid should they run into someone they know from the schoolyard, who now cleans the streets, or works at McDonalds, or rides a bike. I would love to see everyone employed in feeding this city, striking for smiles, and displays of humanity, things seriously lacking out on the street here. Or perhaps it’s simply the weather. It’s what, almost Summer? And still it feels like winter in Boston. 1 Star.