Originally Posted by
noglider
I remember the Queensboro Bridge before the bike lane. Oy, just thinking about it gives me shivers. And I still feel an emotional twinge when I ride on it, because I associate that bridge with danger.
I remember the first time I rode over the Queensboro Bridge. It was 1981, long before the dedicated bike/pedestrian path on the north side-road.
At that time, both side-roads were in use for auto traffic for much of the day; and there were signs at the bridge's Queens entry that directed bicyclists to use the south side-road (on the Queens-bound side) during some hours and the north side-road (on the Manhattan-bound side) during some hours -- and even to forget about riding over the bridge and to take the subway during other hours.
My friend and I approached the bridge and looked at the signs. I remember that the signs were not clear, or perhaps contradictory. I also remember that neither side-road seemed to be in use at that moment. So, in order to be sure how to proceed, we approached a traffic cop who was on duty there and asked him what we should do. He instructed us to use the south side-road.
So off we went. And then, when we were part of the way through, that roadway was opened to cars from the Manhattan side. Queens-bound cars started coming towards us and then speeding past us with inches to spare, as we carefully continued our ride towards Manhattan.
There would have been no point in our getting off our bikes and walking; that would have made things worse, as we would then have taken up even more width. And there would have been no point in stopping, as the unbroken flow of cars was going to go on for many hours. We had no choice but to continue.
That was a bad fright; but luckily we made it without incident. But even on those occasions when I successfly worked out on which side-road I should be riding, the Queensboro Bridge had another psychological torture in store: the surface of the side-roads was unpaved grating. So a cyclist would look straight down and see water.
I am not normally afraid of heights; open windows, even high up, do not scare me. But looking straight down over water really bothered me. I would go through a cycle of 1) avoiding the Queensboro Bridge for long periods; 2) feeling ashamed of myself for giving in to such an irrational fear; 3) forcing myself to return to the bridge; 4) getting back on there and feeling a kind of inexplicable primal terror, resulting in my pedalling desperately to get off. Then back to Step 1 again.
So what we have now on that bridge seems luxurious to me.