Surviving the Streets: Urban Cycling in 2025 – A Bike Messenger's Updated Guide to Not Dying on Two Wheels

Every day, I mount my black Surly Steamroller like a saddle-worn steed—saddlebag lashed tight, grommets aired, cinch straps taut—and every day I thank muscle memory, situational paranoia, and the predatory instincts honed during my courier days for keeping me alive.

This bike isn’t just a ride—it’s a companion, a tool, a totem. I’ve poured years into it: swapping hubs, rewrapping bars, tuning gears, patching tires. Seven years deep into our relationship and she still carries me like it’s our first sprint through morning traffic. This isn’t a shiny road toy—it’s a warhorse built for the urban jungle.

I don’t own a car. I gave up motorcycles. I get around with my legs, my bike, the 16 bus, Metro, and the occasional Uber Pool when it’s pouring rain or human frailty catches up with me. But most days? It’s me and the Surly. Always.

I’ve ridden through Clinton, Bush, Obama, Trump (once and again), and Biden in between. I’ve filtered through Beltway gridlock on a Honda XR650L, toured cross-country on a BMW K1100LT, and delivered time-sensitive filings to the Hill on a brakeless fixie in the ’90s. I’ve seen Berlin’s perfect cycling infrastructure and Portland’s hipster flow, and nothing—nothing—feels quite like surviving rush hour in D.C. on two wheels.

Let me be blunt: the streets now are worse than they’ve ever been.

More weed. More screens. More Uber drivers. More scooters. More Amazon vans doing illegal U-turns to shave seconds. More gig workers blasting through yellow lights with fries in one hand and a map in the other. Every intersection is a game of “what fresh hell.” If you’re on a bike in 2025, you are not a cyclist—you are a cockroach sprinting between kitchen tiles, praying the slipper doesn’t drop.

This is not Copenhagen. This is not Amsterdam. This is not a dream of urban harmony. This is a war zone dressed up in bike lanes and green paint. And your helmet? Your helmet is a foam wish. Don’t get me wrong—wear it. But ride like it won’t save you.

This updated guide—an evolution of my original 2016 post, “Tips to Survive City Riding on Bikeshare”—is for the clueless commuter on a rental bike. For the e-scooter tourist with AirPods in. For the fixie kid who thinks style equals invincibility. For the seasoned roadie who forgot that riding fast isn’t the same as riding safe.

If you think you’re safe out there, you’ve already lost. It’s time to recalibrate. Time to ride like a ghost through the cracks. Time to survive the city you think you own.

Chapter I: Know Thy Place — You're Prey

You are not a car. You are not a Tesla. You are not protected by armor, crumple zones, or airbags. You are flesh and bone and Lycra. Or in my case, canvas shorts, steel frame, and a stubborn refusal to die.

You’re not the main character. You’re a critter.

Traffic doesn't care that you’re in the bike lane. The driver in that Suburban doesn’t even see the bike lane. Most don’t see you. Some resent you. A few might even aim for you. That’s the spectrum.

Your mindset has to be this: every ride is a stealth mission. You are not asserting your rights. You are infiltrating. Flow like water. Evade. Escape. Do not demand space. Take it only when there's no cost.

Chapter II: My Messenger DNA

In the ’90s, I was a bike messenger for WEx in D.C.—when fax was king and email was a rumor. I hustled legal documents between K Street firms and the Hill. No helmet. No brakes worth a damn. Just guts, gears, and gall.

I had carte blanche in my D.C. I could flash into a Senate office, skulk through Capitol tunnels, and duck into the cafeteria for an iced tea before riding back out into the blast furnace of a D.C. summer.

Then: open buildings, light security, forgiving traffic. Now: lockdowns, bollards, surveillance, and traffic that doesn’t even know it’s traffic anymore.

I miss those days. But what they gave me—the sixth sense, the predator-prey radar—it still works. It still saves me.

Flashback: Pre-Internet in a Big Way When I was a courier in Washington, it was pre-Internet in a big way. Since lawyers are always doing things last-minute, I would end up shooting across the city on my bike with just minutes left (after flirting with the hot receptionist), only to reach the maw of a heavy dun-colored Official Time Stamping machine seconds before it was put to bed. I made it every time. There was nothing to impede me. The city was open. Now they call it “vulnerable.”

Capitol Hill Was Open Door You could move freely between buildings. From the Capitol to Senate and House offices, even the GPO. I could drop off a package, grab lunch in the cafeteria, and head back out. Now it would take 45 minutes and a cavity search.

Security Eats Time Even office buildings have TSA-lite setups now. Security adds time, friction, hassle. The only thing that moves fast today are the rideshare drivers on their sixth delivery of the hour.

The Insidious Model Security has been internalized. Everyone is watching everyone. The whole city feels like it’s holding its breath.

Chapter III: The 2025 Shitshow Rundown

1. Smart Cars, Dumb People – Autopilot has made people worse drivers. They trust sensors more than their own eyes. Lane-assist is their god now.

2. Weed Fog Everywhere – Legalization made things mellow—and sloppy. Stoned drivers are slow to react, drift between lanes, and kill you with soft indifference.

3. Screen Zombies – Every driver is holding a phone. Whether it’s FaceTiming, TikTok, or texting—it’s all eyes on screen, not on street.

4. Gig Economy Chaos – Uber drivers. Amazon vans. DoorDashers. They will U-turn across five lanes in traffic to make a drop. You are a rounding error.

5. E-bike Tourists & Scooter LARPers – Rentals have flooded cities with clueless new riders who don’t know street rules and assume safety is baked into the experience. It’s not.

Chapter IV: Golden Rules (Now More Golden Than Ever)

Every parked car has a door about to open.

Every pedestrian is a TikTok sleepwalker.

Every taxi is a chaos demon.

Every bus will absorb your lane without warning.

Every pothole is a death trap.

Every driver is high, distracted, or half-dead inside.

Your helmet? It’s a polite fiction. A foam wish. It matters—but only after you’ve already failed. Your real protection is avoidance.

Chapter V: Street Wisdom from a Motohead

Cover Your Brakes – Always ride with fingers resting on your brake levers. Always. Shaves milliseconds when milliseconds matter. It’s your hand hovering over the trigger.

Eyes Steer the Bike – Don’t look at the car. Look at the gap. Your bike goes where your eyes go. Target fixation kills. Escape vision saves.

Exit Plan Always – Whether it's a swerve, bunny hop, or a hard veer to the sidewalk—never ride without knowing where the hell you’re bailing if it goes sideways.

Head on a Swivel – No mirror replaces situational awareness. You need to see the body language of traffic before it acts. This is body-reading, not just observation.

Chapter VI: Ride Philosophy for the 2025 Cockroach

Do Not LARP Safety – This is not Denmark. That green bike lane is a suggestion, not a shield. Paint does not protect.

Don’t Play Indignant Chicken – Yes, you have the right of way. Yes, they’re in the wrong. Yes, you're still the one who dies. Don’t be righteous. Be alive.

Say Thank You – Wave to the car that yields. Thank the pedestrian who waits. Reinforce good behavior. It’s rare. Treasure it.

Stack the Odds – Lights. Tires. Routes. Clothing. Every decision you make should reduce risk. Stack your survival probability every time you mount up.

Chapter VII: Tech & Gear in 2025

Tires: I run 38c Schwalbe Marathon Plus. Bombproof. They’ve taken more hits than my ego.

Brakes: Rim brakes still, because I like the punishment—but disc brakes are the play in modern traffic.

Lights: Day and night. Rear blinking. Front solid. Assume you’re invisible and still act like it.

Helmet: Yes, wear it. But ride like it’s not there.

Mirror: If you use one, great—but don’t rely on it. Trust your ears, your instincts, your paranoia.

Glossary

Cager – Driver in a car. Steel shell, soft brain.

Dooring – Sudden car door opens in your lane. Instant wreck.

Indignant Chicken – Holding your line just to prove you're right. Dead-right is still dead.

Bike LARPing – Pretending you live in Copenhagen. Acting like painted lines protect you.

Escape Line – Your planned swerve path if shit goes sideways.

Prey Vision – Eyes always moving. Watching everything. Staying hunted to stay alive.

Covering Brakes – Riding with fingers hovering on brakes. Instant response time.

FAQ

Q: Are bike lanes safer now in 2025?
A: Only if you believe in unicorns and shared civic responsibility. Assume nothing.

Q: Are drivers really that bad?
A: Worse. Between screen addiction, legalized weed, and tech overconfidence, they barely know they’re driving.

Q: Should I ride with a helmet?
A: Yes. And ride like it won’t help.

Q: What if I get hit anyway?
A: You probably will, eventually. Focus on minimizing damage, not pretending you’re invincible.

Q: Do I have to act like a cockroach?
A: Yes. That’s how you stay alive.

Final Word: Keep the Rubber Side Down

Every time I swing a leg over my Steamroller, I ride like I'm invisible. Like I'm already a ghost navigating the living. I don’t ride for glory. I ride because the city is mine if I know how to survive it.

You want to live on two wheels in 2025?

Drop your ego. Drop your entitlement. Ride like a cockroach with a mission.

Good luck. I hope I don’t see you in the trauma ward.

—Chris Abraham, ex-messenger, moto veteran, still rolling

"Survival isn’t macho. It’s humble. It’s grimy. It’s slipping through the cracks and riding off like a shadow. That’s urban cycling in 2025."