In some ways, Abu Dhabi (city of), ought to be a paradise for bicyclists. The island is flat as a table, a table about four feet above sea level. Nary a hill, to speak of,  and only 9.7 square miles. Almost nothing is more than four miles from anything else. That’s a bit far to walk, but to bike? Four miles is about a 15-minute ride.

In reality? Abu Dhabi is anything but inviting to cyclists. And nearly no one does it. Generally, you are more likely to see a dog than a bicyclist.

Unless, that is, you happen to espy our co-worker. The man we often refer to as The Man on the Bicycle.

The National is just big enough (200-plus in editorial) that at any given time most of us cannot put a name to a significant fraction of our co-workers. Maybe 25 percent. More. The reporters outside your own department who rarely come into the office. The copy editors in departments at the other end of the room.

The Man on the Bicycle is one of them. If anyone has ever mentioned his name in my hearing … I did not take note.

He works in the business department, as a copy/production person, I believe, and is neither noisy nor annoying. So he is not famous for the Wrong Reasons.

He is tall, and British (I have always assumed), and perhaps in his 50s.

And he rides his bike to and from work. The only person from the whole of a four-story building who rides a bicycle to work.

A laudable concept. Environmentally friendly. A bit of exercise. Financially prudent.

But probably not a good idea, for several reasons.

–Six months of the year here, even the gentlest ride will leave a person a sweaty mess after 10 minutes. The Man on the Bicycle seems to deal with this by using one of the showers available on the lower floor. But that is time he has to build into his day before he is actually at his desk. And involves carrying a separate set of clothes. And the risk of sunstroke, if he is riding any distance in the violent Abu Dhabi summers.

(It brings to mind the bit about “Mad dogs and Englishmen” — but riding, not walking, in the noon-day sun.)

–Abu Dhabi was not made with bicycles in mind. If the city has a single stretch of bike lanes … I have never seen it.

–This is a city by and for motor vehicles. It is a difficult place to walk, with chunks of broken pavement here and there — meaning it is not at all practical to ride a bike on sidewalks. The city also has very long blocks, which make crossing major streets a long walk to a street light — or a mad dash across six to eight lanes of traffic.

And the road grid is such, with tousands of people living inside each of those huge blocks,  that it involves lots and lots of merging from the right, often at some speed — and no one here is looking for bicyclists. Because they do not exist.

The Man on the Bicycle must take his life in his hands every time he gets on his bike, which he chains to a fence in one of the parking lots behind the building. Those long blocks, drivers doing 60 mph, no one looking for cyclists, and more than a few not-well-lighted stretches in certain neighborhoods.

He has been here more than a year, and he is still riding his bike. Hasn’t been run over yet, far as we can tell.

And it does give him some cachet, being The Man on the Bicycle. The only one in the building. We may not know his name, but he’s the tall guy with his pant cuffs tucked into his sock, and the helmet, as he heads out into the night to commune with his two-wheeler.