I did enjoy playing in the trike. In a perfect world we would be able to get around in all sorts of human-powered vehicles without having to worry about what behemoth was going to crush us like an unnoticed insect.
On the plus side, you don't have to worry about keeping your balance at stop lights. Once you reorient your style to accommodate the recumbent position you can work on smooth acceleration through the gears instead of a standing sprint to get clear of the intersection.
I only rode the trike in and around a parking lot. The rest of the time I rode my conventional bike and observed my brother in various traffic situations. We never ventured onto a very busy road, but it was late afternoon, so we had some commuter motor traffic working around us.
I kept waiting for a motorist to get angry or impatient. The trike takes up a lot more lane than an upright bike. Motorists seemed reluctant to pass even on clear, straight sections where we would prefer they get it over with. It occurred to me that the trike gives the impression that it might be adaptive equipment for someone with a disability. As miffed as a driver might be that someone with a disability had chosen to go play in traffic, no one wanted to be such a baby seal clubber as to honk or yell at the poor rider churning doggedly along, belly-up and vulnerable.
In a sense, my brother does have a disability. He dumped his conventional bike early in the summer (or late in the spring, I forget which) and broke his elbow. He can manage the recumbent trike long before he would be able to support himself properly on an upright bike. Devoted pedaler that he is, he used this as an excuse to pursue his interest in less commonplace pedal-powered vehicles.
I borrowed my brother's SPD sandals because the crank position on the trike requires secure attachment of the feet. If you were to drop a foot at speed you would get seriously shredded. Step-in pedals make more sense than straps alone because your feet are hanging from the elevated crank. Slotted cleats would work, but I only prefer those for my regular bikes because they allow me to use different shoes I would not wear when riding a recumbent. Secure foot attachment isn't a problem at stops because you don't need to get a foot out to prop yourself up.
Around 1981 I started sketching a fully-faired recumbent for commuting. It was going to be a fully-enclosed torpedo, but with a narrow track. I was still thinking of the usual bicycle habitat rather than something that would unabashedly take a lane. Living in Annapolis. Maryland, working for a sail loft, I shifted the design to a boat because I fancied my chances better on the water than the street. The project died for lack of funding. I was broke. It didn't strike me as a business venture that would eventually pay for itself.
Fully enclosed, one of these trikes would make a dandy all-weather commuter. The bodywork would help with visibility and lane presence. You would still be vulnerable in a crash, as any small vehicle is, but such a vehicle could make a good car replacement.
The cellist tries the Trice.
Something about scampering around on the trike made me smile. It may be an ingenious piece of design, but it's also just a little wacky. With a fixed gear option you could even have reverse gear. When I bogged down on a hill because I got mixed up with the shifting I used the hill to help me make a three-point turn so I could roll back down to the flats. Playing the contours of the parking lot I could make other small-radius maneuvers. I don't know what the traffic mix would be like with large numbers of recumbents thrown in. Visibility is a huge issue, especially for overtaking vehicles. On the plus side, if the speeds matched up right you could definitely pass clear beneath a tractor-trailer.
Imagine this scene in a movie: the recumbent rider slides under the big trailer and hooks into some downward-projecting piece of it. Towed along out of sight, the pedaler is protected from attack. At the appropriate time the rider releases the hook and slingshots out to A) a massive jump B) a white-knuckle downhill C) a sliding stop while motor vehicles collide in a spectacular fireball D) the possibilities are endless.
I should come up with a screenplay for each of the great scenes I've imagined over the years. That's the bitch: I only ever imagine a scene or two. They never go with any of the other scenes. I guess that doesn't matter in an action film. Just keep the chases and explosions rolling, with an occasional sex scene to provide a window from which to jump into the next action sequence.