Most bike riding in the US is recreational. You throw your mountain bike or 10/15/18/21 speed on the bike rack of your car, and drive to a park, or deserted country road just to get away from the crowded city. Or, if you are a bike commuter, you ride as a an unwelcome guest on the litter-strewn shoulder of the urban streets.

In China, you are never alone riding a bicycle. Riding a bike is not a solitary communion with nature. Nor are you alone fighting a battle against a sea of automobiles, indifferent at best, hostile at worst. Bicycle riders are clearly in the majority here, outnumbering motor vehicles by a ratio of at least 10 to 1. We have the upper hand.

Riding a bike here is primarily about establishing your relationships with other bicyclists. Some of the other foreign cyclists (Deb included) don't enjoy the crowded bike lanes and the constant reconciliation between riders; I can't get enough of it. It is a continuous process of producing harmony out of chaos, managed with nobody losing their temper, with nobody taking control. The negotiations are essentially nonverbal, which may be part of the appeal; my lack of Chinese is no handicap.

Everyone looks out for his or herself, but not without an awareness of the intentions and needs of those riding nearby. When a three-wheeled delivery wagon loaded with bricks decides to cross the road in front of you, it is probably a good idea to hit your brakes, even if you have the "right of way" (whatever that means.) If a roasted-potato seller, with a stoked-up oven of hot coals on the back of her bike, makes a sudden stop, it is in your interest, too, to avoid a collision.

But even under less hazardous circumstances, you need to pay constant attention to what's going on around you. Maybe the person next to you, talking on his cell phone (yes, this happens) begins to wander into your path. Maybe some pushcarts filled with fruit have narrowed the lane and the eight bicyclists riding abreast will need to squeeze down to four. Maybe those three teenaged boys, racing past you, decide to stop for a snack of fresh pineapple and make a sudden right turn from the left side of the lane. When a bike breaks down in traffic (Deb has lost both a pedal and a crank arm while riding) you don't want to cause more trouble than already exists; you get out of the way and pray that you don't cause a collision.

All of this happens with a grace and polish that makes riding a bike feel like an elaborate and elegant dance. One of the most interesting skills I have developed here is the ability to ride extremely slowly. The natural tendency of a slow-moving bike is to wander from a straight path. This is the last thing you want to do when you are in the bicycle equivalent of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Even more difficult is starting up from a dead stop at an intersection, where the bikes are so closely packed they are touching. You can't go any faster than the bike in front of you, and since you can't maneuver around, you just do your best to maintain your balance, move forward, and wait for the traffic to slowly spread out.

For everyone who has suffered through a traffic jam in the US, this description must sound like an equivalent hell. But while I hate driving, even under the best conditions, I love being in these close quarters. In part, mastering new skills is very satisfying. And bicycling carries many kinesthetic pleasures that driving totally lacks. It feels good to move and balance in the cool, sunny weather, under crystal-clear blue skies. But mostly, I simply enjoy the relaxation of riding slowly and purposefully, in unison with so many others.

The sounds of bike travel are also very calming. There is a muted clatter; the sum of hundreds of loose chainguards, misaligned derailleurs, bent chainwheels, and wobbly baskets; the music of general mechanical decay. It creates a background noise no less pleasant and no less natural than a trickling mountain stream. Even when traffic is tight and disaster imminent, no cries of panic or anger disturb the tranquil atmosphere. Occasionally a cyclist will jingle a bike bell to alert another rider; this is very rare and I suspect, somewhat rude. More commonly, a rider will whistle a few soft notes to warn another cyclist of possible trouble, as when a passing lane unexpectedly tightens, or a passageway is suddenly blocked.

But it is not an absolute utopia out there on the roads. The enemy of bicyclist here, as everywhere, is the motor vehicle. And China has a wide variety of them. While every road has a bike lane, which is never less than the width of an automobile lane, the two worlds unavoidably mix at every intersection. Crossing the street you can encounter any combination of: motor scooters, motor cycles, huge cargo trucks, buses, taxis, microvans (much smaller than minivans), three-wheeled motorcycle taxis, three-wheeled bicycle utility vehicles, vendors pushing pool-table sized carts filled with produce, electric bicycles, and donkey carts. No one is presumed to have the right of way.

Your first reaction is to yield to anything that could crush you. This is a mistake. If you're not assertive, if they smell fear, you will be stranded forever. One of our early strategies was to wait for a slow-moving vehicle to start heading in the direction of our goal. We would then move alongside in the traffic shadow of this sacrifice vehicle, like a gunman fleeing police fire while holding out a hostage. While effective, this is not always convenient; you always have to wait for some poor laboring farmer pedaling along with a load of cabbage. Plus, you have a responsibility to the other cyclists to maintain the bicyclist's rights of passage. This is a right established over many years but one which must be constantly reasserted.

The proper approach is to ride smoothly and confidently across the road, with no hesitation or signs of doubt. It helps to have other bicyclists at your side, but that is almost a given. In fact, if no Chinese riders follow you, you are probably on a suicide mission and you may want to back off. But under most circumstances, that bus will slow down and the motorcycle will steer around you. When you encounter a vendor pushing a table-load of oranges, or a donkey dragging a cart filled with metal scraps, there is more expectation of mutual respect. After making eye contact, one of you speeds up and one of you slows down; the decision is based on who will be least inconvenienced. You quickly get the hang of it.

The muscle-powered vehicles maintain a definite solidarity (Donkeys of the world, unite!) Our days of supremacy in China may be numbered but we won't go down without a fight. On roads that have no designated bike lane, bikes just claim the right hand auto lane and proceed as usual. I have seen taxis that stray into a bike lane get surrounded and immobilized by a swarm of bicycles. Take that, you exhaust spewing parasite!

But just as I have not yet met anyone here who owns a car, I have also not met anyone who does not dream of it. The government is even encouraging automobile ownership as a way of stimulating economic growth. (Sound familiar?) China will soon be joining the WTO; once that happens, the N.Y. Times is predicting that American finance companies will begin to offer auto loans to the middle-class Chinese. Today the cell phone, tomorrow the car. But as long as it lasts, I'll be out there on the road with my proletarian brethren. And if all else fails, I'll get me a donkey cart.

See for yourself - Pictures taken while on the road