This is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed cycling in a city. Previously I have been a car-watcher on two wheels, a fume-breathing pothole dodger, my existence begrudged by every four-wheeled, “proper” road user. Now, just outside the Tivoli Gardens, an older lady shoots past me on a shopper-chopper with a cheery “Hihi”, which alerts me to the fact that I am on the wrong side of the bike lane. Imagine: a bike lane broad enough to allow safe overtaking. At the traffic lights there is a purpose-built leaning rail so my feet remain on the pedals; once across the junction, there is a waste bin specially angled to catch litter from cyclists.
