On Critical Mass

On Friday evening I met my husband under a bridge. Waterloo Bridge, specifically, but we weren't alone. A couple thousand members of London's cycling community were there to play Follow-My-Leader on a leisurely pedal around the city. They call it Critical Mass. Its simply brilliant. While I waited for the husband to show up, I was solicited for a bob or two (apparently ten pence, the contents of my pockets, is beneath the dignity of your self-respecting beggar), asked to join a forthcoming climate change demonstration by a woman wearing tweed, and invited to a burlesque evening. I sigh to be the kind of girl that accepts all invitations! How exciting life could be... The husband charged up as seven approached and the hordes were beginning to get restless. The leader seemed to be a man on a recumbent with a vast pink canopy that resembled dragon's wings and an airhorn. He was closely accompanied by a gent flying a giant Free Tibet flag from his mountain bike, which caused interesting steering misadventures. And there were City suits on their folding bikes, free spirits on ancient cycles garlanded with plastic roses, young bucks on their achingly cool fixed bikes steering one handed so as not to spill their lager, and women in sensible lycra clothing (I shudder, but my views on the subject are for another day). At the horn, this whooping twinkling chattering river of flesh and metal rolled off into the night. When we reached the first red light, I marveled at being part of a force that halts all other traffic in its path. At every junction we met, the cyclists on the edge would place themselves in the face of the oncoming cars and hold them at bay while we flowed past. Its a nice change to see democracy working. But that's as far as the politics went. I was amazed at the tolerance the snarling city mustered for our ragtag band. One taxi driver felt compelled to express himself with an endless horn, but we all laughed and wished him a nice evening. Coming into Trafalgar Square, I'm not sure if it was us or the tourists getting the bigger thrill. The idea of Critical Mass is that only the leader knows the route, so we are free to follow on a treasure hunt of this glorious capital's sights. People play music from their bikes; there was some impressive rapping on the microphone linked to a bike just ahead of us, and a guy on a BMX was leaping and twirling like a happy dolphin. And most people, like us, cruise along and marvel at it all. All you have to do is show up on a bicycle - see fridaynightride.com for more info. Its a heavenly way to round off a week. And its free.