pedicab story

So on Wednesday, in the midst of the transit strike, my editor had the idea I would rent a pedicab and ride around the city looking for fares for a story. Only, the story was held for a day … and then yesterday the strike was resolved. So the story was “overtaken by events,” as we say in the business. It didn’t work out that great anyway, to be honest. (Also, my photographer tripped and hurt her knee … ouch). But here’s a draft of my story before it was spiked.

By DEREK ROSE
One might think the subway strike would be good for the pedicab industry. Guess again.
It’s not easy getting around gridlocked streets, even in a pedicab, this reporter found in a nearly two-hour tour of duty as a pedicab driver Wednesday.
“It’s more of a novelty than a mode of transportation,” admitted Spencer Monk, 19, the pedicab entrepreneur who rented me his bicycle taxi.
After a 30-minute riding lesson — it’s trickier than one might think — we set out in search of fares, with Monk following behind on a bicycle to make I don’t destroy his tricycle.
Cycling crosstown is a mess. A rickshaw is just too wide to weave in and out of traffic the way a bicycle can. But eventually we make our way to Fifth Ave., where cars are banned.
Unfortunately, it seems like every other pedicabbie has had the same idea. I count four other rickshaws with two blocks of me.
“Peddycab, petty cab!, best way to get around town during the strike!” I yell. People bustling by just give me a blank look.
Most New Yorkers, Monk tells me later, are cheap and would rather walk two miles than spend $15 on a pedicab ride. Tourists are the bread and butter of the pedicabbie, but out-of-towners are staying away during the transit strike.
So the $600-a-day rickshaw drivers had dreams of making during the strike hasn’t exactly worked out. Monk says he averages about $200 a day, but made just $110 on the first day of the strike.
At a red light, I pull up next to spiffy yellow rickshaw driven by a man in a tracksuit who just gives his first name, Travis.
“How’s it goin,” I ask. “Today’s been rough,” he admits.
We meet again at the next red light — people aren’t biting at my sales pitch — and I ask Travis how he gets riders.
“I’ll tell girls I’ll give ’em the ‘beautiful girl discount'” he says. Alas, it’s a business, not clubbing, crowd out on this chilly Wednesday.
Finally, at 45th and Fifth, I find my mark. An immigrant deliveryman looking to get to Kips Bay to make a delivery. The base fare for pedicabs is $1 a block, but I don’t want to be greedy here. $20 it is.
Hauling butt up the hills with a passenger isn’t the easiest. I’m sniffly and my legs are a tad sore by the time we get to my destination. But we make it there in one piece and my fare peels off a twenty from a wad of bills with a word of thanks.
“Your first $20 fare,” Monk tells me. I slip the bill inside my glove and begin the trek back to my comfy-warm office, filled with a newfound respect for the pedicabbies.

Driving a pedicab really is trickier than it looks until you get the hang of it. (It took me about 30 minutes). If you’re used to riding a bicycle, you try to balance yourself … but obviously a pedicab is a tricycle, you’re not going to tip over, and you just manage to screw yourself up.