A New-School Beat On An Old Ride

 You might be reading this post a bit earlier than you normally see my posts.  I'm headed out for an early ride.  I set out early yesterday, but today I wanted to get out even earlier.  

While our heat wave isn't quite as severe (yet!:  It just started) as the ones in Europe or the Western US, the weather is definitely hot.  The good news, for us, is that we are better prepared than the Europeans simply because, during most summers, we experience at least one multiday stretch of high temperatures around 33-37C (91-98.6F).  And we haven't been afflicted with the droughts that have parched the western regions.

So, yesterday I decided that as long as we're scorched, I will get out as soon as possible after waking up (which means:  after a cup of coffee and a "light bite") and get back by about 11 am.

Yesterday morning's ride was pretty random, except for one thing:  After zigging and zagging through various Queens neighborhoods, the Flushing Meadow-Corona Park paths and the Malcolm X Promenade (a.k.a. World's Fair Marina), I made my way to Kesso's to get enough of one of my favorite foods--the Greek yogurt they make on site--to take me through the next few days.

Alas, the man in charge wasn't in.  Sometimes I think he's one of those people for whom owning a business really means setting his own hours.  But, to be fair, I know he sells his yogurt and tzatziki to stores and restaurant and, since Gus retired, I think Spyros has become a one-man operation. 

Anyway, that was the only disappointment.  My ride, however, revealed a pleasant surprise.  I have pedaled around Flushing Meadow-Corona Park many times, but had never before seen this:

Turns out, the sculpture of LL Cool J has been there since January and will remain until November.  

I like the way his face is depicted. And, as one of the founders of "new school" hip-hop, it makes sense that his visage is perched on top of a  replica of a "boom box."  But that old-school (at least to us, in 2022) way of playing recorded music is not there merely as a token to represent his status as one of the genre's--and a generation's--definitive artists.  It actually works--by solar power.  It's programmed only to run from noon until 5 pm, however, and because of the heat, I hadn't planned to stay that long.  But I plan to return one day after the heat breaks, just so I can hear some of his work in a way I've never heard it before.

Maybe I'll discover something else new on another familiar ride. Whatever it is, I doubt it will have a beat like the ones LL Cool J--who grew up in Queens--makes! 

From Men In Black To The World In Pink

For me, Flushing Meadow-Corona Park brings back memories of the World's Fair, which I visited with my family when I was about six years old.

For you, it might be associated with one of the most popular movies of all time:  Men In Black.  I saw and enjoyed it, too, but those early memories and associations never leave us, or so it seems.

Nonetheless, I will grant that I think of MIB, especially with the 25th anniversary of its release imminent. In the movie,  the mothership crashes through the Unisphere, the large globe sculpture that has become an emblem of Queens, "the world's borough."  (It's said to be the most linguistically and culturally diverse county in the U.S.)  

I would bet that the Men In Black never envisioned a World In Pink.

I stopped by the park the other day, during a ride out to Nassau County, down to the South Shore and up to the North.  A couple of years ago, on that very same piece of land, I saw a bloom of cherry blossoms that rivals any other I've seen.  If I recall correctly, it was around the third week, or possibly near the end of, this month.  Still, when I saw the trees the other day, their buds had bloomed enough to color the world in a way that, I believe, even the Men In Black would appreciate.

A Lowe-Case Letter And A Crossing

 What do you do when wake up and can’t get back to sleep?  Take a bike ride, of course.

I hopped on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, for a spin.

Into the sun

rising over the World’s Fair Marina

I know it’s not Antibes or Nice, but I thought it was pretty nice nonetheless.  From there, I spun along the North Shore to Bayside and a couple of blocks into a Nassau County before descending through Flushing Meadow-Corona Park (and the (Unisphere) before heading back to my apartment. 

Along the way, I was treated to the cutest pedestrian crossing I’ve seen in a long time.  When I stopped for the red light at 83rd Street and 34th Avenue, the hands of a young Asian (Korean, I think) woman danced together as she bowed her head with a coquettish smile. A female driver stopped at the same light gave both of us a thumbs-up.

I really enjoyed my bagel and yogurt when I got home! 

The First Time Without Her

Around this time last year, I had just returned from my trip to Greece.

And it was my mother's birthday.  Little did I, or anyone, know it would be her last.

Before taking a quick ride out to Flushing Meadow Corona Park (site of the climactic Men In Black scene and the "the valley of ashes in The Great Gatsby), I called my father.  Though he is not religious, he went to church and lit a candle in honor of my mother, who was not terribly religious but attended mass and lit candles.  We agreed that it was strange--and, for him, lonely--to experience her birthday without her.

Of course, I was thinking about those rides I took along the ocean during my visits with her and Dad in Florida and my high school days in New Jersey.  She never rode with me (or anyone, as far as I know) but she never discouraged me from cycling.  She seemed to understand that it was, and always would be, part of who I am.

As she is.

1934: Pedaling The Lake

I occasionally ride to, or through, Flushing Meadow Park.  If you've never been there (or haven't read my posts about it), you might recognize at least one of its landmarks:  the Unisphere, built for the 1964-65 World's Fair and featured in Men In Black as well as other movies and TV shows.  

What you also might not know is that, like Prospect and Central Parks, it surrounds an artificial lake.  During the summer, those lakes are popular for, among other things, boat rides.  

Flushing Meadow, however, offers a type of water craft not available in the other city playgrounds:  pedal boats.  While they bear more resemblance to oversized beach toys than to boats or bicycles, they are propelled in the same way as your bicycle:  Your feet spin the pedals.  

I haven't tried one, but I plan to, if for no other reason than to see whether the experience is more like cycling or boating--or neither.

Perhaps these young women could have offered some insight:

For ten cents, had the opportunity  pedal across the waters of Lake Lucerne, near Seattle, Washington.  Their pedal boat literally combined two bicycles with a boat (or, more precisely, a raft) made of milled timbers.  The women's leg power propels the contraption forward by means of a water wheel attached to the bicycle gears.

It's pretty clever, if you ask me. If only the resort's managers could have had such acumen:  In December 1934, four months after the photo was taken, the property (which included 98 acres of land in addition to 16 acres of lake) was seized and sold at a U.S. Marshal's auction to satisfy a $22,763 court judgment. 

As far as I know, there haven't been any pedal boats on the lake since then.

Arielle And Amber

You know a winter day in New York is mild if it doesn't seem cold after you've just spent a week in Florida.

Today was such a day.  Actually, I experienced a day or two in the Sunshine State that were even a bit chillier than today.  For me, it was perfectly fine for riding.

And it was for Bill, too.  What inspired us, aside from the sheer joy of being on our bikes, was the light of this day:

It wasn't only the clarity of the sky that so inspired us.  Rather, it seemed that on every street, in every field, sunlight became the bricks, reeds and even the trees--all of them amber momentos of days, of seasons.

One way you know you're in a park in New York is if you see a rodent and you know it's not a rat or a squirrel.  As we carried and pushed our bikes on a trail I'd ridden before, but was today submerged in mud and dotted with slates laid down as stepping stones, we saw rustles in the reeds.  I never realized muskrats were so quick!

So...How did we know they were muskrats?  Well, in that marshy area by Willow Lake--really a dot to the dash that forms an aquatic exclamation point in Flushing Meadow  Park--what other rodent-like creatures would we have seen?  A sign at the entrance to the trail--where we exited--listed muskrats among the "wildlife" in the area.

All of those creatures seemed to enjoy the light as much as we did.  

So did Arielle, my Mercian Audax.

N.B.:  I took the bike photo with my cell phone.  Bill took all of the other photo in this post.

Afternoon Delight With The Rocket Thrower

I had an Afternoon Delight today.  No, it didn't have anything to do with that.  This is a blog for PG audiences!

All right, that all depends on how you define PG.  Anyway, my afternoon delight was a short but sweet (ah, the cliches!) ride via a circuitous route to Flushing Medow Park.

Tosca seemed content to ride and fade into the background.  She had the chance:

I mean, if she wanted to camoflauge herself, could she have picked a better spot?

Actually, I think she looked quite lovely there.  The folks in the New York City Parks Department do a nice job.

Even if the arrangement had consisted entirely of lilies, Tosca would have been hiding in plain sight of this icon:

The Rocket Thrower clearly has his sights elsewhere.  Good thing:  He probably wouldn't want to see some of the things that go on right at his feet.  

For that matter, he probably wouldn't want to hear, either.  When he was unveiled, for the opening of the 1964-65 World's Fair (held in Flushing Meadow Park), some people said absolutely terrible things about him.  One of the most merciless was the New York Times art critic (who else?) John Canady described The Rocket Thrower as "the most lamentable monster, making Walt Disney look like Leonardo da Vinci".

Robert Moses, the "master builder" behind the Worlds' Fair, famously sneered, "Critics build nothing".  So, perhaps, it isn't a surprise that he tried to console Donald De Lue, the sculptor of The Rocket Thrower.  "This is the greatest compliment you could have," Moses said.  "[Canady] hates everything that is good."

Hmm...I'll admit, it certainly doesn't compare to Da Vinci or Michelangelo or Rodin.  Or even Brancusi.  But it fits into something like a Worlds' Fair, especially one in the age of space exploration.  And, on his lofty perch, nobody can take "selfies" with him!

A Detour From The Worlds' Fairs

Just recently, the Big Apple (a.k.a. my hometown) celebrated the 75th and 50th Anniversaries of its most recent Worlds' Fairs.  (It also hosted one of the earliest Fairs, in 1853.)  As I have mentioned in one of my earliest posts, I attended the 1964 Fair with my family when I was--well, let's say I was very young.  Very, very young.


 

I'd love to say that my family and I rode there together.  Well, my parents were like about 99.99 percent of American adults of the time in that they didn't ride bikes.  And of the Valinotti children, I was the only one who had graduated from tricycles.  I think my youngest brother was only a few months old when we went to the Fair.

But someone named Jay Kenney rode there. In fact, he pedaled about 1300 miles to get there:  He started in Richfield, Minnesota, with a group of cyclists about his age (16 at the time) on an American Youth Hostels tour.

I stumbled over his photo album when I was researching something else about the Worlds' Fairs.  But it made my day.  This photo--of the Ludington Light in Michigan--was worth the "detour".



Now, what was I researching again?

On A Bunch Of Strings

Have you ever come to the end of a workday feeling as if you'd carried the weight of the world on your shoulders?  


Well, all right, I didn't today.  And, truth be told, I never identified much with Atlas, even in my weight-lifting days.  I'd say that I identified more with Tiresias, though I could do without the blindness.  


Anyway, carrying the world on one's shoulders doesn't grab my fancy.  But suspending (or dangling) it on strings is fascinating (and pretty sexy, if you ask me). I think the people who design suspension bridges, and built certain kinds of boats, understood that:

I saw that "bridge" as I cycled through the World's Fair grounds on my way home.  Could they really be holding up those trees?  


Some kids think God works that way.  (At least, some of the kids I worked with twenty years ago thought so.)  And, I would suspect, more than a few adults think something like that, too, though in a less benevolent way than the kids see it.


So what were those strings supporting?  Well, I don't know whether they were actually supporting it, but they are attached to the skating rink in Flushing Meadow Park.  The rink is at one end of the park, which is probably as big as Manhattan's Central or Brooklyn's Prospect parks.  At the other end of the park is the Kissena Velodrome.


OK, there's my "string" to cycling.  I now feel I've rationalized the fact that this is in a cycling blog.  That's a huge weight off my shoulders! 

Into A Cherry Blossom Sunset

Somehow I get the feeling I might've better appreciated today's weather had I been English.  Then again, upon realizing how much of the Empire consisted of warm climes, one could just as easily conclude that some English people weren't so crazy about their own meteorological conditions after all.


The day remained overcast.  I thought I felt a few drops on my way home.  I kept my fingers crossed:  I received a very important document in the mail at my second job.  And I was bringing it home in a tote bag with an open top that I carried in one of my bike baskets.  Perhaps if the rain had gotten heavier, I could have stopped in some store and asked for a plastic bag.


But the sprinkle seemed to end not much after it started.  While the sky didn't clear, I was treated to an interesting "sunset" as I pedaled through Flushing Meadow Park.

Now, even if you absolutely detest pink, how can you not love a cherry blossom "sunset?"

Blame It On The Moon

Once again, I cut through Flushing Meadows-Corona Park on my way home from work.  It was the site of the 1964-65 World's Fair, for which its iconic Unisphere was built.  Nearly three decades later, Men In Black was filmed there.


A German tourist I met in the park reminded me of that.  In fact, he said, it was from watching Men In Black that he first learned about the borough of Queens.  I was reminded of the time three young Germans approached me near the West Fourth Street subway station in Greenwich Village.  They asked me how to get to the South Bronx.  They wanted to go there because they had recently seen Fort Apache, The South Bronx.  I tried, to no avail, to dissuade them from going.


But I didn't have to do anything like that for the youngish man from Munich I met today.  He remarked on the wonderful light of this afternoon turning into this evening in that park as I took this photo:

All of the light has seemed different since my moonlight ride on the wee hours of Saturday morning and the "Super Full Moon" that rose that evening.  Plus, it seems--even more than other full moons I've seen--to have brought some strange sights my way.


I encountered one of them in the bike rack at work:

I wondered whether that vestige of a downtube was there only to support the front derailleur.  There seems to be no other rationale for it.  Maybe it was conceived by someone who believes that we have heads so that we'll have someplace to put our helmets. 


Or maybe it was designed by the same person whose bike was attached to a fire hydrant by the longest chain made of 3/4" thick case-hardened links I ever saw.  I doubt anyone could have cut that chain, at least not with the sort of tools bike thieves carry with them. But it didn't take someone with a PhD in quantum mechanics to figure out that he could lift that bike and chain over the hydrant and into the back of his van. (I didn't see the theft. I just know that professional thieves, at least at that time, used vans. So, that bike's owner and I assumed that scenario played out.)


The sad thing is that faux seat tube isn't even the worst piece of bike design I've ever seen.  Actually, I've seen a lot of things much worse than that.  You tend to come across them when you work in a bike shop for a while.

Maybe the designers of that bike and the owner of the bike that got stolen from a fire hydrant could have blamed the moon--even if it wasn't the Super Full Moon.


And that friendly German tourist and I can blame it for the photos we took in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park.

Fixed On Ice

After the winter storms we've had, there are patches of ice and encrusted snow on little-used sidewalks and streets.  Fortunately, I did not encounter any of them on my ride to work this morning.  I also didn't find any on my way home, except for some I found along the path in Flushing Meadow-Corona Park.

Sometimes I like to detour through the park, even though it adds to my commute, because the park is both nice and has a lot of resonance for me.  If you saw Men In Black, you'd recognize it as the site of the Unisphere, perhaps the most iconic structure of the 1964-65 World's Fair, which my family attended when I was a child.  

Going through the park also allows me to avoid the area around Main Street in Flushing, where I encounter the heaviest and most chaotic traffic to be found between my apartment and my job.

But at least those streets are kept clear.  Such is not the case for sections of the park, which sees few visitors on weekdays in the midst of winter.  

As you may know, I installed a fixed gear on Marianela last week.  There's a very fine art to riding one on a glazed street or path.   

Of course, you probably won't embark on a ride across a glacier on your fixie, if you're going to ride anything at all.  But when you come upon a frozen puddle in your path, the best thing to do is to keep your line and move ahead.  

As best as I can tell, the way to do that is simply to release all of the tension in your muscles, at least to the degree that you can.  A white-knuckled grip will only make you more likely to skid and fall; so will any sudden attempt to stop or any attempt to accelerate.  

The best way to pedal is to let your legs continue to spin at whatever pace you were riding before you saw the ice.  Not only shouldn't you try to accelerate; you also shouldn't try to dramatically slow down (or stop) your bike.  You just want to let your legs keep up their momentum.  

Any attempt to accelerate or to make a stop will land you on your side, or some place where it will hurt even more.  So, for that matter, will making a turn.  If there's an obstacle on the ice, you're better off trying to ride through than to turn or slow down for it.  

Ironically, I took a minor fall today, but not on ice.  I was about fifteen minutes from home tonight when I somehow jerked my handlebar when pushing down on my left pedal after the traffic signal turned green.  I flipped onto my side, spilling the contents of my baskets.  Fortunately, two very nice young Asian men saw me and helped me to get up and gather the stuff that spilled.    They really must respect their elders in their culture!

A World of Bike Dreams

You've probably heard this joke:   

There are two kinds of people in this world:  Those who categorize people and those who don't.

Well, I haven't met very many people who don't fall into the second category, at least some of the time.  And I am as guilty as anyone of dividing people into categories.  I often do that when I teach, especially when I tell my students that there are basically two kinds of people in the world:  dreamers and schemers.  Very few of us are purely one or the other, but most of us tend toward one or the other.  And, of course, it's very important to know what you tend to, and to find someone else with the opposite tendency.  As if I know how to make a relationship work!

So what are cyclists?  I guess the ones who ride because it's cheaper than driving or using mass transit are schemers, or at least pragmatic people.  And those who do it as a release or escape are most likely dreamers of some kind.

Well, I know which one I am.  Perhaps my condition is genetic.  But I think it also has to do with having seen this very early in my life:

The Unisphere was the centerpiece of the 1964-65 World's Fair in Flushing Meadows Park, which is about six miles from where I live.  My family and I went to the Fair when I was about seven years old.  My youngest brother was born only a few months earlier.

Years later, when I was an undergraduate at Rutgers, I rode in one of the early Five Boro Bike Tours.  At the end of the ride,  a man whom I never saw again invited me to join a couple of other guys and a woman I never saw again for some post-Tour beer.  From Manhattan, where the tour started and ended, we rode across the Queensboro (a.k.a. 59th Street) Bridge to Woodside, a neighborhood that probably had, at the time, the greatest concentration of Irish people--and Irish bars--outside Dublin.  

Back then, my hair was redder than it is now and I think that I'd first grown a beard around that time.  Also, if I recall correctly, I wore a stovepipe hat.  Back in those days, few cyclists wore helmets (which were the useless "leather hairnet" variety), so unless the weather was very hot,  I wore my stovepipe hat or my beret when I rode.  I don't recall why I chose the stovepipe hat on the day of the Tour.

Anyway, a couple of the bar patrons adopted me for the day and, after staying somewhere I can't recall,  we spent much of the following day riding in circles around the Unisphere when we weren't emptying bottles of beer that were much better than any other I'd drunk up to that time in my life.

That, I must say, is a long way--in spirit if not in distance--from my ride today:

Yes, I was test-riding the Le Tour III.  If you saw my previous photos of it, you'll notice one difference:  the Wald fold-up baskets in the rear.  I haven't used them yet, but they look like a good design--and that they would be bombproof.  

Naturally, I had to do a test-ride in a dress or skirt, as I plan to use the bike for commuting.  As it was hot today, I opted for a sun dress.  And I wasn't wearing high heels:  Instead, I wore wedge sandals.  Still, I felt I was close to "real life" commuting conditions, at least for me.  

The bike is "almost there."  I've adjusted the seat and bars to comfortable positons.  I'm still not sure of whether I'll add a front basket.  I like to keep my purse in it when I ride.  But I really don't like to put much more in them, as weight on handlebars affects steering.  (Of course, I didn't say that to the dancer I once escorted on my Cinelli Giro d'Italias through the streets of Soho!)  Plus, I haven't had the best of luck with baskets:  I've broken a couple of wicker ones and a "quick release" version did exactly that as my wheels bounced along a street in an industrial area of Maspeth.  Maybe I'll get a small basket that attaches with a brace to the front dropout.

OK, so I'm being practical--a schemer.  But can one be called a schemer if her real purpose is to enable a dreamer?