A pedicab puts the city up really close

From Washington Post
By Andrea Sachs

NEW YORK - Among the experiences that make one go "Eek!," tooling around Manhattan in a rickshaw ranks high, falling somewhere between a cab ride during rush hour and walking through Times Square after the theaters let out. Some of the bike-drawn buggies come equipped with seat belts; others don't. You decide your threshold of thrill.
"There's a real rush going through traffic," says Jacob Press, with the Manhattan Rickshaw Co., the longest continuously operating pedicab outfit in New York City. "We can always find a way through."

I have explored the city that never stops by foot, bus and bike. But I want to sightsee in a vehicle that is intimate with the urban landscape but doesn't require any energy expenditure. So I call Manhattan Rickshaw and book Press and his quads.

Rickshaws are pervasive in Asia, where the economical bicycles with big backseats jostle for space among mopeds, cars and swarms of pedestrians. In the United States, they're more of a novelty than a necessity, but they're a rousing ride nonetheless. Though passengers are not as vulnerable as the biker, they're still thrust into the chaotic street scene.

"It's a combination of entertainment and transportation," says Manhattan Rickshaw owner Peter Meitzler. "It's fun and environmental and fills a niche."

In 1994, he and a group of entrepreneurs brought a dozen pedicabs to Manhattan, a nervy experiment in a city so dependent on taxis. To drum up interest, the rides were free. Today, a number of companies send nearly 500 pedicabs onto the streets. The taxi alternatives, which can be hailed on nearly every busy corner, charge $15 to $40 for a 10- to 30-minute ride.

In Central Park, where I meet my driver, pedicabs congregate alongside horse-drawn carriages, vying for passengers with a romantic streak. Some operators also employ licensed guides capable of pedaling, pointing and narrating without crashing.

"We cover a lot of ground," Press says me as I climb into the 150-pound contraption, stashing my bags in a compartment. "In the pedicab, you can see the landscape change and are close enough to see New Yorkers in their daily life." (We discussed the price and the route beforehand. My only request for the 90-minute tour was to cruise through Times Square during rush hour; he balked, then conceded.)

The 29-year-old New Yorker has a master's degree in urban planning and is keen to share his advanced-degree education. "You see layers of the city," he says while pedaling away, his steady voice cutting through the street noise. "It's looking forward and backward."

I was hoping Press would spend more time glancing forward, at the oncoming traffic, than back, at me. We start with a spin through Central Park, where he singles out the Ghostbusters building and Sheep Meadow, named for the lawn mowers of yore.

As we exit the park and join the stream of traffic, staying to the far left, Press describes the passing structures, his eyes ping-ponging between me, the sites under discussion (such as the Plaza Hotel, St. Patrick's Cathedral and Trump Tower), and the surrounding bedlam.

"We're faster than traffic," he says, swooshing around a double-parked minivan, then seamlessly returning to the bike lane.

Seated on a padded bench protected by elbow-high sides and a convertible canopy, I feel as though I'm nestled in a cocoon and am enough at ease to give Press 90 percent of my attention. (The remaining 10 percent is busy being a backseat driver: "Parked car on left!" "Pothole ahead!" "New Jersey plates coming at you!")

"We've had fender benders, but no fatalities," he says. Well, that was comforting.

From the Central Park area, Press cruises through Midtown and cuts through the heart of Times Square. At 45th Street, he removes the top, and with clear skies overhead, I watch the giant faces of billboard models float by like clouds. At a red light, I eavesdrop on sidewalk life.

Onward we coast, through a living documentary of landmark structures (the Chrysler Building, New York Public Library, Flatiron Building), complete with narrative. Press never gasps for breath or falters for topics. He explains such architectural designs as art deco detailing and cornices. Then he riffs on ill-behaved drivers.

"I've given up on out-of-town cars," he says, referring to a sedan from Maryland that cuts us off. After a Jersey driver gives us the middle-finger salute, I ask about vehicular abuse. "I've had coffee thrown on me," he says, "and almost got doored."

In Greenwich Village, Press steers us onto narrow streets enclosed by centuries-old buildings. We also take a spin through SoHo and Little Italy, where Press' description of food at Lombardi's (America's first pizzeria) made me wonder if he was carb-deficient.

With evening approaching, Press heads uptown. As we crawl through Chinatown, Press points out one final attraction: the spot where he almost got smacked by a car door.