In Cambridge, MA, I've seen a fair number of cargo bikes being used for groceries and such. I'd probably do the same if I could afford to live there and wanted to spend all that money to be surrounded by so many people in such close proximity. But that's Cambridge, which is still a far cry from New York City. There's probably a 6-month period in my 20s where I could have stood the place because of the women, but now I don't even want to visit. When my friend lived in Queens for a while, I had to space out my visits long enough to forget the ordeal of the previous time. His wife had a car there, but I certainly wouldn't bother. They had a Neon and it got broken into twice and nothing was stolen either time because there was nothing in it to steal. Even when I went to school in Detroit, they only seemed to break into a car when something was left visible (you know, like an empty soda can—worth $.10!). Then you have to play musical chairs with the rest of the city to clear alternating sides of the streets for the sweeper every week or whatever it was. In Detroit, you could leave a broken car splayed out in the middle of an onramp for four months (witnessed this). That said, Detroit isn't a place I'd want to get around by bike nearly as much as NYC. (One of the scariest things I saw was about 3AM in a desolate part of Detroit that had nothing but abandoned factories . . . might have been near the old Packard plant, but I don't remember. Anyway, I'm driving my 84 Subaru with headlights about as effective as a dwarf hanging off the front bumper holding a candle in front of a concave mirror when I see some strange movement low up ahead along the side of the road—an animal?—a big animal? Get closer and it's a late middle aged white guy that looks like the kind of guy Harley riders try to look like riding a 20" BMX bike, bent legs pumping away, beard blowing over his shoulder. As I pass him, he turns to me and gave me an evil, threatening look like I've never seen before and I grew up with psychopaths and other whack jobs in my family. Used all 73 horsepower to get out of there. Don't know what happened to the kid I assume he took that bike from or if any of the other guys in his gang made it back to the meth lab alive after their drug deal went sour, but those are things I'd rather not know because I don't want to know "too much".)