It's all Mayor Bloomberg's fault. If this city still recycled glass, there wouldn't be as many huge shards of it in the streets, lying in wait for my front tire. I limped my wounded Bike Friday back to the office and got out the patches and pump, but didn't have time to fix things. I got a loaner bike.

So instead of acting on my last minute brainstorm for a costume, I came disguised as a non-Bike-Friday rider. People had a hard time recognizing me, so I guess the disguise worked. I and others in TIME'S UP! helped direct people to either the Hallowe'en night Messenger Race or the Hallowe'en night Critical Mass. I guessed that those with really sleek track bikes here headed for the race, and those with wacky-looking beater bikes were headed for the Mass. This was not always an accurate guess.

My loaner bike was low on air, so I borrowed a pump from an übervampire (Trudy, with fangs and bats coming out of her helmet, fanny pack, and even a mini-me vampire on her rear rack). Surprisingly, the pump did not leave puncture wounds in my inner tubes. Up rode Wendy, who continues to be "BICYCLING a quiet statement AGAINST OIL WARS," but didn't pose for a photo with me.

Reverend Billy worked the crowd, and I think there were some converts. Hallelujiah!

A small assortment of police stood nearby, seemingly unsure as to which event they should be keeping an eye on. Somebody asked how we could tell they were really the police, or just people in costumes. Dispensing free legal advice (and worth every penny!) I explained how this could be a handy loophole in case anyone was charged with "disobeying a police order." As far as I know, there was no trouble with the police, except for the way they stunk the place up with their little gas scooters. GET A LIFE! GET A BIKE!

The crowd was pretty big, so big that I saw a lot of nifty bikes and costumes that I somehow lost track of on the ride itself. More Gardens had an elaborate conveyance and were passing out a Bulldozer Alert in re the South Bronx Senior Citizen Community Garden.

The wizard, Clarence, wore a matching deep purple button that said, "Cars Out of Prospect Park!" I wondered why he didn't just wave a wand and banish the muggle cars. And maybe plant some nice Whomping Willows.

More great costumes:

And then there was the woman with the prosthetic butt. That must have been hard to ride with. When I pulled up in front of her, I noticed that it was actually prosthetic T&A. I was duly traumatized.

We hung a right on Canal Street, went up a highway, and then got a little delayed. The crowd was restless, and someone with a sound system pumped up some good ol' dumb 1980s pop metal, which we sang along to: "We're not gonna take it! / NO!!! We're not gonna take it!" and so on. We went up 10th Avenue and over through Times Square where we hammed up a bike lift for a big boom camera. Hello, Mr. Ashcroft!

We made our way over to Park Avenue. The MetLifePanAm building loomed above us while we took the overpass up to Grand Central station. This was an awesome sight. We passed the Waldorf Astoria, where expensively-clothed people tried in vain to hail taxis. For some reason they wouldn't opt for a nice pedicab ride with a bunch of great people.

A loop-de-loop started, and I noticed we were at St. Bartholomew's. I don't get to this end of town much, and I wanted to get a closer look, because I have a photo of my grandfather at that very church, on his first bike.

I decided to do an opposite loop, cutting over to Lexington Avenue to get a peek behind the church. And here my troubles began.

My handlebars slipped down and over. The clamp had gotten loose. Who designs these things? I could've fixed it with an allen wrench, but my tools were with my pump and patches, back at the office. D'oh! I tried riding with it loose, which took some getting used to: cable stretch kept shifting the gears, and I had to rear back, as if I had a horse on reins, to swivel the brake levers into place. Turning had to be done carefully, lest the bars slip side to side. I went back to Park Avenue to find the ride (and an allen wrench), but everyone was gone!

The ride went off to somewhere in Queens to meet up with the end of the Messenger Race and have a party. I hope it was good. Someone else will have to report on that half of the ride.