From running red lights to dumping bikes, some Lime users get a bad rap. But many who grumble about them don’t appreciate their own privilege
The night belongs to Lime bikes in the capital this summer. Buses and tube carriages are boiling, cars crawl between low traffic neighbourhoods and Thames Water roadworks, and pedestrians plod through the sticky heat. But Lime riders exist in a different, breezier realm: whirring along, chatting in pairs or blissfully alone, weaving through the city’s tree-lined maze, choosing impulsively between destinations, rarely stopping for anything or anyone.
“My favourite part of a night out is Lime biking home,” writes Annie Lord, a dating columnist and author, in Freewheeling: Essays on Cycling. “As I ride up a hill, the bike’s electrics click … And, for a little while, I’m free.”
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