Moonlight Cruise

 Yesterday I combined a daytime ride with “taking care of business.” That meant crossing into Harlem and pedaling—sailing, really, with the wind at my back—down the Hudson River Greenway to the World Trade Center, where I boarded a PATH train to Journal Square, Jersey City.

As I rode the streets of the Bronx, Manhattan and Jersey City,I was surprised at how little traffic I saw. Could it be that the NYC Metro Area is experiencing an “August absence “ like that of Paris and other European cities?

Traffic was so light, in fact, that when I resumed my trip in Jersey City, I rolled down JFK Boulevard—a “stroad” I would not take under other circumstances—all the way to the Bayonne Bridge, where I crossed into Staten Island.

Ironically, I saw the densest crowds on the Ferry’s observation decks. Most of the people were, of course, tourists. But the few who seemed to have ridden the Ferry before couldn’t’ve been blamed for standing in the cool breeze.

Tell me, where else can you go on a moonlight cruise for free?

And my “moonlight cruise” continued on La-Vande, my King of Mercia, up through Manhattan where, I believe, I could’ve navigated by the August blue moon even if all of the neon and street lights—and all of the headlamps on cars, trucks and buses—had gone dark. 

I saw only one other cyclist and one runner as I wound my way up Central Park to Adam Clayton Boulevard *, where people seemed to enjoy the night as much as I did.

*—You can tell someone is native to the neighborhood if they call it “7th Avenue,” just as no New Yorker refers to 6th Avenue as “Avenue of the Americas,” its official name since 1945.

A Once-In-A-Blue-Moon Ride

 Yesterday was a Florida day I  reverse:  It began with rain that fell “fast and furious”: I don’t think it lasted more than 15 minutes. A curtain of clouds remained, sealing this city into a cauldron that became even steamier when the sun peeked out before filling a clearing sky.*

I took a late afternoon ride in that late-summer soup.  So, not surprisingly, what I wore—and I—turned into wet rags.  I needed to do laundry anyway, so after supper, I lugged my dirty, smelly load to my usual laundromat. 

It was closed for “maintenance.”  I figured there had to be another nearby, so I walked down to 34th Avenue, where I encountered this:

Whatever others (and a government agency or two) say, I aver that I am in the middle of my life.  I claim that status because I don’t know when it will end. That means I might not see, again, what I saw last night. Or I might see its next predicted appearance—in 2037–or the one after it.

The Super Blue Moon is one of the rarest celestial phenomena.  You’ve heard the expression “once in a blue moon.” There’s a reason for it:  The “blue” moon is the second full moon in a calendar month.  Because the moon’s cycle is 29.5 days, it’s “blue” only every three years or so.

The name comes from the ok hue the orb sometimes reflects back to earthbound viewers.  But last night’s blue moon shone as bright and silvery-white as a streetlight because it’s a “Super” moon: a full moon that coincides with the perigee, or the moon’s closest approach to the earth. That happens a bit more frequently than a blue moon, but still only three or four times a year.

Thus, seeing a “blue” moon so big and bright won’t happen again until 2037. Whether or not I get to see it, I saw last night’s Super Blue Moon in the middle of my life, after a late-day ride.

*—To anyone who happens to be in Florida (or Georgia, the Carolinas or Virginia):  I hope you’re safe in the wake of Idalia.