The bicycle I settled on is a red RANS Force 5 LE. I like it because it has large wheels (more efficient, cooler) and a very supine riding position, with the feet almost at eye level. I added clipless pedals, a pannier rack, a rear light, a mirror, a computer, and a water bottle cage. The total weight is now 30.2 pounds, or just about the same as my old bike, which has the same stuff. I rode it about 10 miles through the Valley, and it was mildly scary. I could turn my head fine, but if I lifted a hand from the handlebar, or pushed too hard to get my shoe into the pedal, or otherwise didn't just sit still, I wobbled severly.

Bringing it home to San Diego was also uncomfortable. The panniers sit over and almost behind the rear wheel, and this moves the balance point to an area of the frame where there's no good way to grip it. In contrast to my old bike, which I can hoist up on a shoulder fairly well-balanced, even when it totals 50 pounds with my stuff, the F5 is almost unmanageable with a load. I got it down the subway stairs by reaching through the seat to grab a bit of frame, but soon resorted to using elevators (which, being terribly macho, I never do with my old bike). I also felt very weird and obvious, like everybody was looking at me. And when you take public transportation in Los Angeles outside of rush hour, and you are an Anglo, you are usually the only Anglo.

The myth that recumbants are harder to take up hills seemed true enough to me going up Banker's Hill in San Diego. I can climb almost anything on my old bike, or could until the spokes and chain wore down too much to take the load of steep hills, but I couldn't imagine going up some hills on this thing.

It all came together after I turned up Fifth avenue to go home. In the far left lane of a three-lane, one-way, high-speed street, I decided to take advantage of a lull in traffic to merge to the right side. I couldn't use the left-mounted mirror to check the street, so I was craning my neck but trying to keep my body perfectly still, except for pedalling up the hill. Just as I had decided to change direction, a bum shouted, "Hey!" I looked. "Don't fall asleep on that." I was so stressed from a fear of either falling down or being hit by a car I couldn't see that this distraction right as I was changing lanes made me furious, and if I had been able to control my direction I might have committed an act of violence. In retrospect, it shows pretty clearly how uncomfortable I am on the thing that one person shouting something inane could destabilize me so badly.

When I did manage to get home, huffing and puffing, one elevator was not working. The other one took forever, and even came to my floor and left without opening the door. With more button-pushing (and in the garage, you have to turn a key just to push the button), it came back. I waited for somebody to get off, but before I could wrestle the bike around to enter the elevator, the doors closed. When I punched them in frustration, I had my keys in my hand so now I have a some sort of bloody gouge under the skin of my palm. When I dragged the bicycle onto the elevator, there was a bump and something plastic skittered through the gap and down the shaft. Eventually I figured out that this was the bicycle computer. This tendency of the Protege 8 to fall off into elevator shafts compensates for the fact that, in every other way, it is far more usable than my current, much-hated bicycle computer.

Monday, of course, it rained.

So, I'm going to keep riding my old bicycle in town. I'm completely comfortable in traffic on it, and it still works, albeit with assorted weird noises. Some time this week when the weather improves, I'll take the new bicycle on a longer ride, out to the beach. Hopefully its advantages, the better streamlining and the more comfortable seat, will kick in.