When I moved to Germany from Montana last fall, I made fast work of getting wheels. Walking down the cobblestone streets of Regensburg, I came across a second-hand bike shop tucked in an alley, where I chose an older model Hercules. She was a white bike with a spring black seat, pedal brakes, a friction light and a bell - my ticket into German biking.
Getting my own bike was as important to fitting in in Germany as having access to a car is in the States. Bikes move in traffic, cruise past rivers, speed down roads and fill racks at universities, grocery stores and office buildings. In bike-friendly cities such as Freiburg, located along the Black Forest in southwest Germany, more than 20 percent of the traffic is mounted on bicycles.
Of course, problems do occasionally occur. On my first day of bike riding, a friend and I rode through Regensburg together, when suddenly her bike threw its pedal into the middle of traffic. Confused, she shouted and we skidded to a stop. Before she could see where it landed, a couple of children proudly retrieved the sorry chunk of metal from the street. People here care about bikers. That's one reason racks and bike houses are everywhere, helping cyclists deal with the thieves who are as common as pretzels in Regensburg. Cyclists in Berlin use two locks and I am especially careful here, carrying my locks along with a life-saving cyclist's map of Berlin.
With the ubiquity of the bicycle, promoters throughout Germany push the government for better Radwege, or bike paths, where bicycles can push, pull or carry everything, with carts hooked on the back hauling lawn tools, trash, recyclables, groceries or children. The way cities here are planned around bicyclists would green the cheeks of bicycle lobbyists in the United States, with even public transportation offering storage space on trains and subways.
I found riding a bicycle in Germany uncomplicated and far better than my experiences on road and mountain bikes in the States. I have never encountered such respect just for riding a bike as I enjoy here. In Germany, moving about on two wheels is better than any other form of transportation. What a surprise when drivers slow or even stop as I approach an intersection or signal a left turn! Pedestrians give generous room to pass even when I'm not going that fast.
Cycling in this country is an unforgettable experience. Worth investigating from a bike seat would be the exceptionally bike-friendly German cities of Lübeck, Troisdorf, Münster and Freiburg. If Berlin calls you, the city holds an annual bicycling demonstration, this year on June 2.
Remember, though, to watch out for other cyclists: Those bike bells mean business. Stress levels peak on bike paths during weekdays, and the bell on a bicycle is akin to the horn on the taxi in Turkey, screaming: Move! One encounter with a seemingly harmless 75-year-old who steams past with one sharp Kling! of her bell, grazing your backpack as you jump out of the way, will teach you not to stand on her half of the sidewalk. The Radweg is reserved for bicycles.
Katja Stromnes-Elias became a Fahrrad fan during her time in Berlin.
