Tribe, I need to tell you something. But, before I do, I want to make sure that this news doesn’t leave you jealous. To state the obvious, you will always be my number one. And my number two. But… I’ve adopted a new tribe: the Citibike Tribe.

When I received my annual subscription to our city’s new bike share program, I was excited. But, honestly, I didn’t think I’d be using the bulky new bikes that have stolen all of my best parking spots that much. The subway is a block away, and it’s where I get my prime people watching done. Cabs are better; easier on the legs. Ubers open the door for you; easier on, well, everything.

I was wrong. I’ve been using my Citibike pass so much that when they raise prices next year, it will probably be my fault. I’ve used it at least 95 times, which means I’ve already paid about $1 per ride. It’s the same way I price out the true value of shoes. If they cost $700, and I’m going to use them 70 times, that’s $10 per wear. Which is a BARGAIN! (Trust me, I’m a Wharton kid.)

Without further ado, here are some tips, from a Citibike Triber. (Yes, guys, it’s a thing. Jump on this bandwagon before I crash all the Citibikes in the city and there are no more left for you to use.)

  • You will be late to meetings if you don’t leave earlier than you think you need to. Google Maps for bikes doesn’t take all external and unforeseen factors into account when giving you an estimated travel time. For example, they don’t tell you that sometimes you will have to get off your bike and walk it across the intersection while trucks and cabs aggressively honk at you for almost crashing into them. (Get it together, Google.)

  • Don’t attempt to do forward or back leg lifts while waiting for the light to change. Instead, opt for side leg lifts. (Super insider Tribe tip: You don’t always have to wait for the red light to change, but I can’t legally suggest that in this post. But… if you want amazing legs, you’ll do it.)

  • Cabs. You would think they would be scared to hit you. Logically, if this happened, you would get hurt. And you could sue them. And you would probably/definitely win that case in court. And then they would have to give you a lot of money. But they don’t care. I’m actually pretty sure they have a shared and secret (or not-so-secret) vendetta against the Citibike Tribe, because they do not make any efforts to keep you safe. They’re just mad they’re driving with other people on the road, and if they can wipe you out so you don’t take an inch of their streets, they will. So anytime a cab honks at you or yells at you, just wave at them really enthusiastically. If you’re feeling super balanced and zen, blow them a kiss.

  • Bring three to four towels with you on your Citibike ride so that you can wipe the buckets of sweat from your face and body before you walk into the meeting you almost just killed yourself to get to.

  • Don’t try to pretend to be better than the no-break, delivery bikers. Just don’t. They will win. They always win. Even when they crash, fly into the air and do spins before landing on the pavement, they do it gracefully and bounce back like a rubber doll unscathed.

  • Memorize the streets with bike paths. They feel like they were made for us (the Citibike Tribe, obviously). Even if they’re out of your way, try to take them just so you get that “I’m not going to die!” high, even if it’s only for one block.

  • Cobblestone streets are the worst. Or the best. They’re a nightmare. But also so much fun. I can’t decide.

  • When you’re in a life threatening situation, don’t forget that there’s a sidewalk. Is it legal? No. Will you be the king/queen of the sidewalk, and will people get out of your way? Yes. Weigh your options, and maybe wear a tiara.

  • No matter what, don’t overdo it. You definitely don’t look as cool as you think you do. (But I happen to think you’re the coolest.)

  • For all the “late adopters” who are still hailing cabs: When you, the ahead-of-the-times Citibiker, ride past said late adopters with their arms flailing in the air, give them a high five to let them know you’re cooler than they are. I did this last week, and the woman yelled at me, “Asshole!” And it was in that moment, when a New Yorker told me I was an asshole, that I truly feel I became a real New Yorker.