The other day, rain fell in starts and stops, stopping late in the day. I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, for a spin through neighborhood streets and a couple of times around Roosevelt Island.
Some parts of the island, especially the area around the lighthouse and "Girl Puzzle," feel rather bucolic, in and of themselves and in contrast to the skyline and bridge views less than a mile across the water.
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Those views also highlight certain weather conditions. Low clouds seem even closer to the streets when they enshroud the spires and upper floors of skyscrapers.
I've pedaled up and downmountains similarly cocooned, through clouds thick enough that I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me. It may have been the most Zen-like riding I've ever done: When all of the normal cues, including color and sound, are gone, I could only ride, in that space, in that moment. For a time, I couldn't even see my bike under me: I felt only my rear on the saddle, my hands gripping the handlebars so my arms could prop me up and my feet spinning the pedals. I didn't even know which gear I was riding.
Of course, no ride on Roosevelt Island, or anyplace in the city, will take me into the clouds. But I can feel, if for a moment, that I am on a cloud!
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