1. Messengers: I like 'em!

Messengers might be the friendliest group of people in the city. So often, while riding, or while locking my bike up, some dude will roll by babbling a barely coherent greeting - "allrightallrightallrightallright!" or "what's good, what's good?" seem to be the common ones, with a rhythm that matches the pedal strokes. It never fails to put a smile on my face. Once while leaving my building, a dude and I just put up our hands and high-fived, without a word and with barely any eye contact.

I'm not talking about the young twentysomethings on dirty track bikes. I'm talking about the grizzled veterans who are unfazed by trends in biking, who haven't let cameraderie curdle and sour into contempt for outsiders or intruders. I'm talking about the guys who smile when they're riding, like the guy who raced me down 5th Avenue during our commute a few weeks ago. Like the hispanic kids who seem to stick together, on color-coordinated vinyl-wrapped mountain bikes, but who would return a nod and mouth "buenos" across the street when I was delivering food in the winter. And then there was the dude who approached me when I flatted coming off the Williamsburg Bridge - already late to work and without a repair kid (what a gn00b!) - with a tube, and wouldn't even let me buy his coffee from the streetcart.

It reminds me to go out of my way to be friendly to strangers. It reminds me that moving all around the madness of this city are highfives waiting to happen.