A man is wheeling two bicycles along the narrow R train subway platform at Jay Street. I’m walking behind him as he threads his way through clumps of riders waiting for the train. He holds both bikes by the handlebars, equidistant from his body, and in this way manages to maintain a precarious balance. His course, however, is uneven, and the obstacles he encounters include not just other riders but trash cans, steel columns, and benches. At one point he arrives at a particularly narrow passage between a set of stairs and a steel column, and for a second he seems to hesitate, unsure whether he’ll make it through. Perhaps sensing my impatience behind him he continues – but one of the handlebars catches on the column on the left; he tries to shift to the right, but the other bike’s handlebar catches on the stairs (I’m reminded of the comic image of a dog trying to carry a too-large stick through a doorway). Realizing he’s reached an impasse, the man has no choice but to reverse course, which means attempting to steer the bikes backwards – a seemingly impossible maneuver, especially on this platform packed with rush hour commuters. At that moment my train arrives and I leave the man there, struggling backward against the weight and imbalance of two ungainly, uncooperative bicycles.