You learn all kinds of things while cycling. Some come from those deep ruminations that naturally come with that meditatative state you fall into while pedaling. You start to ponder the Big Questions, like "Do I cook that wild farm-raised alligator shrimp fish I bought last week? Or do I go for takeout Chinese? Tacos? Pizza?"
Other great lessons come from the things our bodies tell us. Like the time you tried to do that half-century on two hours' sleep after you pulled a hamstring. Or plunged down that rock-strewn hill the day after you broke up for the fifth or sixth time with someone with whom you have nothing in common but talk about marriage anyway.
Then there are those little bits of information we get from fellow cyclists and other people we meet along the way. You know, news about sales, new "dive" bars and the "in" bike cafes: All the important stuff.
Finally there are the things you would never, ever have found out had you not taken that ride a little later or a little earlier than usual, along some route you told yourself you'd never ride, ever again:
Hillary may well have stolen New York City. She wouldn't be the first. Some would argue, as I would, that a Dutchman did the same in 1624. (Actually, Native Americans have had a whole continent stolen from them, just as African Americans' history and community was taken from them.) For that matter, I wouldn't be surprised if the one who wrote that graffito was involved in stealing the very spot--on the waterfront of Williamsburg, Brooklyn--from some working-class Italian or Jewish or German or Puerto Rican family who used to live there--or the jobs they might have had.
And we all know that Bush The Second stole the election of 2000. Which means, of course, that he not only stole this country, he stole the 21st Century and, possibly, the third milennium.
Oh, the Five Boro Bike Tour will pass that very spot tomorrow. Except that it will be going in the opposite direction from the one I'd been pedaling along the Kent Avenue Bike Lane. So they might not ever learn that Hillary Stole NYC--or that there's construction in the bike lane, and they should proceed with caution.
Other great lessons come from the things our bodies tell us. Like the time you tried to do that half-century on two hours' sleep after you pulled a hamstring. Or plunged down that rock-strewn hill the day after you broke up for the fifth or sixth time with someone with whom you have nothing in common but talk about marriage anyway.
Then there are those little bits of information we get from fellow cyclists and other people we meet along the way. You know, news about sales, new "dive" bars and the "in" bike cafes: All the important stuff.
Finally there are the things you would never, ever have found out had you not taken that ride a little later or a little earlier than usual, along some route you told yourself you'd never ride, ever again:
Hillary may well have stolen New York City. She wouldn't be the first. Some would argue, as I would, that a Dutchman did the same in 1624. (Actually, Native Americans have had a whole continent stolen from them, just as African Americans' history and community was taken from them.) For that matter, I wouldn't be surprised if the one who wrote that graffito was involved in stealing the very spot--on the waterfront of Williamsburg, Brooklyn--from some working-class Italian or Jewish or German or Puerto Rican family who used to live there--or the jobs they might have had.
And we all know that Bush The Second stole the election of 2000. Which means, of course, that he not only stole this country, he stole the 21st Century and, possibly, the third milennium.
Oh, the Five Boro Bike Tour will pass that very spot tomorrow. Except that it will be going in the opposite direction from the one I'd been pedaling along the Kent Avenue Bike Lane. So they might not ever learn that Hillary Stole NYC--or that there's construction in the bike lane, and they should proceed with caution.
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