I'M RIDING THROUGH Brooklyn when an old Buick appears at my side and, like an amorous cow, begins to rub up against me. At 20 miles an hour, I lose control, launch into the air, and roll to a painful stop. The driver pulls over—eventually—and just stands there as I limp toward her.

"Why'd you hit me?" I ask.

"I thought I could get around you," she says.

I've often dreamed of living in a city where you can spend an entire day on a bike without once suffering an act of aggression or a near-death experience, and scarcely a day goes by that I don't hear or read someone going on about a city just like that: Portland, Oregon. The New York Times calls it "Bike City USA," and more people commute by bicycle there (over 7 percent) than in any other metropolis in America. Portland also boasts an extensive light-rail system (trains and trolleys) and biodiesel buses, all of which accommodate bicycles, and plans to triple the length of its 300-mile bike-route network by 2030.

But it's not just robust statistics and support for alternative transport that make Portland seem mythic to cyclists in the rest of North America; it's also the bike-obsessed populace, the artisans and small businesses that serve them, and the consequent social interaction that people call a "bike culture."

While storied Italian frame builders like Colnago have mostly embraced carbon fiber and begun outsourcing work to Taiwan, Portland is now home to the world's greatest concentration of custom bike builders (currently about 30), who work primarily in the classic medium of chromoly steel. They build road bikes, mountain bikes, cyclocross bikes, cargo bikes, townies, etc. The most famous is Sacha White, of Vanilla, whose wait list is so long (more than three years) that he's not accepting new orders. The rest of America's businesses are in the grip of the Great Recession, but Vanilla won't even take your money.

Portland is also home to some very recognizable names in cycling attire and components: Rapha, Showers Pass, Chris King, and Portland Design Works are among those who've hung a shingle in town. Then there's all the riding. The Cross Crusade, the 17-year-old, 12-event cyclocross race series based there, is the largest in the world, seeing some 9,000 participants. If you're not competitive, there are also the theme rides, both planned and impromptu. When Michael Jackson died, scores of Portland cyclists materialized en masse and started riding around dressed like the King of Pop. The Flaming Lips recently shot a music video at one of the city's 250-plus parks; it starred a bunch of naked cyclists and a gigantic vagina. Sure, there's all that rain, which peaks in the winter, but the city is also drenched in quality coffee and beer, arguably the ideal pre- and post-ride beverages, so you can always slip into a café or bar while you wait out the weather.

I actually visited Portland once, years ago, but it was a bikeless overnighter that I remember only as a blur of precipitation and flannel. So while I'm familiar with the Portland myth, I don't know if it's true or if there's really such a thing as a "bike culture." I'm still picking scabs left over from the Buick incident when I pack up my bike and board a plane to find out.