A wise person once observed that cycling in my neighborhood in Seattle is like going uphill both ways. It’s the absolute truth. My house? On a hill. The business district I want to get to? On a different hill. The route to the coffee shop? Hills galore. And inevitably, as I’d grind through another steep climb, swearing under my breath, I’d hear an electric motor whir behind me.
Someone on an e-bike – usually one of the few Lime bikes in the city not thrown onto the middle of a sidewalk – would tear past me. Not sweating and red-faced. Not cursing the existence of hills. They might not even be pedaling! The nerve, I’d think. I swore them al …
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