Friday's weather was practically the definition of "dreary": at any given moment, we had any given combination of snow, rain and sleet combined with winds that gusted, at time, to 90 KPH.
While the stuff stopped falling out of the sky Saturday morning, a ceiling of thick clouds obscured the sun--at least, for most of the day. And it was still pretty windy. No matter: Bill and I went for a ride.
We were exulting in our good fortune when we encountered a "souvenir" of the previous day's weather:
I'd heard that trees fell and power lines snapped. Still, it's a surprise when you find them right in the middle of your route.
It wasn't really a surprise that the tree fell: We could see the decay near its base. Also, it was pretty easy to see that the tree needed more room for its roots to spread and deepen. I guess that when that tree was planted--100 years ago?--no one expected it to grow so tall--or for concrete to be poured over its base.
One car looked totaled. The others struck by the trees looked repairable. Fortunately, neither Bill nor I had bikes in the path of its fall!
I rode my Trek because I expected to encounter more debris, mud and other detritus of the storm than I did. Bill rode the rattiest of the three (!) early '70's Schwinn Sports Tourers he owns.
We stared riding just after noon and made a longer-than-expected lunch stop. So, by the time we got to the bridge from Far Rockaway to Atlantic Beach, on the south shore of Nassau County, it was already late in the day.
The South Shore of Long Island is one of the few places on the East Coast where you can look west and see the sun set on the ocean, the way you would in, say, Laguna Beach. And we spent much of the rest of our ride headed into the sunset, from Atlantic Beach to Sheepshead Bay on Brooklyn's South Shore.
From the path between Jacob Riis Park and Fort Tilden, we saw the Manhattan skyline--about 30 kilometers away, as the crow flies--ablaze. Of course, in New York it's hard not to associate blazing buildings with 9/11--especially since a number of firefighters who died that day lived in Rockaway Beach and Belle Harbor, two South Shore communities we traversed on our ride. But I had to remind myself that those skyscrapers were glowing in the reflection of the sunset, not burning in the aftermath of a disaster.
The sun, hidden most of the day, ended the day by playing peek-a-boo with the clouds before disappearing into the sea.
As our ride ended, it had one thing in common with The French Connection: a ride under the New Utrecht Avenue elevated subway. Well, all right, our time under it wasn't nearly as long or dramatic.
I certainly hope the household is "stationary." I wouldn't want to live in something that didn't stay in place, at least while I'm inside it. And I certainly wouldn't allow whoever painted that awning the use of my stationery until he or she learned how to spell.
Or maybe I wouldn't be so picky. After all, I was still basking in the glow of that sunset we prolonged by riding into it.
N.B.: Bill took all of the photos in this post.
As a bridge--indeed, as a structure--the Atlantic Beach Bridge is not at all remarkable. It opened in 1950; like so much else built at the time, it was built from steel and concrete in thoroughly prosaic forms. (Did I just sound like some pretentious architecture "critic"?) And, as one might expect from such a span built on a shipping lane that was once widely-used (and is still used for that purpose), it's a drawbridge.
I have ridden over it any number of times, as have other New York cyclists I know: If you're going to Long Beach, Lido Beach or Point Lookout, there aren't many other ways to go. Crossing it is pleasant enough: There are beaches, boat docks and houses along the Reynolds Channel, which the bridge spans, and the ocean is just a few swim strokes away.
I had long assumed that the bridge connected Far Rockaway--which, as its name indicates, is the New York City neighborhood farthest from midtown Manhattan--with Atlantic Beach, which is in Nassau County. However, the line between the city and the county is actually a few feet away from the entrance to the bridge, at the end of Sea Girt Boulevard.
Why does this matter for cyclists? Well, on most bridges in New York City that have pedestrian lanes but not dedicated bike lanes, cyclists routinely ride without a thought. This happens even on those bridges where signs command cyclists to walk their wheels over the span. There seems to be a kind of understanding, or at least a truce, between cyclists and pedestrians and, it seems to me, confrontations between the two are rare. At least, I've never seen, or been involved in, one!
On the other hand, Nassau County--or its police, at any rate--doesn't always have such a laissez-faire attitude toward cyclists. There is a command post right next to the tollbooth (Interestingly, cyclists were charged five cents to cross until 1975, when the bridge's bond was retired.) and, every once in a while, the gendarmes decide to use their powers on cyclists. Lately, that has been happening with increased frequency. In fact, about two weeks ago, as I was entering the bridge, another cyclist who was riding in the other direction warned me that officers were handing out tickets on the other side of the bridge. So I walked, which added about another ten minutes to my trip.
Indeed, I saw two of those officers. Fortunately, I had walked across. Today, I was thinking about whether or not to ride across when I saw two middle-aged male cyclists walking their steeds from the middle of the bridge. When I turned my head, I saw the reason why: Two officers were standing by a police van just outside the command center.
Being the upright citizen that I am '-), I walked. I saw no other cyclists besides those middle-aged men, which surprised me, given that it was neither oppressively warm nor humid, and there was absolutely no threat of rain. Then again, today is Tuesday, so one wouldn't expect to see as many pedestrians or cyclists as one would see on a weekend day.
Sometimes, when the weather is warm, the bridge's path is thick with pedestrian traffic on weekends, particularly on Saturdays--especially when they come during a Jewish holiday. There are fair-sized Orthodox communities on both sides of the bridge and, as they're not allowed to drive (or, depending on how their rabbis interpret Halakhik law, ride bicycles), they all walk. So, to be fair, I can understand more enforcement of the mandate for cyclists to walk their bicycles at such times. On the other hand, on a day like today, when both pedestrian and cycling traffic are much lighter (I only saw one pedestrian each time I crossed the bridge, and on my way back, I didn't see any other cyclists.), I should think that enforcement would be less of a priority. After all, even on that relatively narrow walkway, cyclists and pedestrians can easily steer clear of each other. And, as on the New York City spans, most are respectful and courteous.
Then again, from what I understand, Nassau County is in far more dire financial straits than the city is in. Call me a cynic or conspiracy theorist if you like, but I can't help but to think that's a reason why I (and others) have been seeing more constables on the Atlantic Beach Bridge lately.
