Don't Even Think Of Parking Here!

Today I rode with my friends Lakythia and Mildred.  If yesterday felt more like the first day of summer than the first day of autumn, today reminded me of everything that is great about the new season:  Everything felt cool, clear and crisp.

When we decided we wanted brunch, we were in my neighborhood, more or less.  So I suggested a couple of places I frequent.  I also thought it would be better to leave their bikes--and, of course, mine--in my apartment rather than to lock it here:

Ride On Ice

Lakythia and I had planned on going for a ride today.  But the temperature didn't rise much higher than my (American) shoe size and the wind gusted to speeds not much lower than my age.  So we opted for brunch--dim sum in Chinatown, to be exact--instead.


Now I am going to reveal one of the mysteries o the human race.  Or, perhaps, I'm simply going to tell you something you'd always suspected.  You've probably noticed that it's usually the men who think it's too warm and the women who think it's too cold.  Well, I've noticed that my sensitivity to cold, while still not as acute as that of other women I know, has certainly increased since I started taking estrogen, and intensified after my surgery.  Before I underwent my transformation, I was one of those guys who, it seemed. always felt too hot.


It's definitely hormonal.  I've read that estrogen increases sensitivity to cold and testosterone to heat.  I noticed that my sensitivity to cold increased after my estrogen dosage was increased about three months after I started taking it.  And, since my surgery, the level of estrogen in my body at any given time has increased, and most of the testosterone is gone.  


At least I know that neither training nor diets, nor anything else, will return me to being someone who cycled in shorts on all but the coldest days.  However, I'm hoping that increasing my mileage will bring back some of the strength I lost.  I've been told that I would have lost some of the hill-climbing ability I once had simply from age. but I don't want to use that--or the hormones--as an excuse.  


Then again, I enjoy my rides more than I did.  Perhaps that has to do with the changes, too.


Anyway, if the wind dies down, I think I'll go for a ride tomorrow:  It's a holiday.  Perhaps I can make it a memorial to Charlie.

Riding Off Into A Sunset Of Foliage

November is a strange and interesting month, especially this year.  It may have to do with the fact that we had a warm, wet fall before our late-October snowstorm, which seems to be the reason why the foliage (Can you call it that in Brooklyn or Queens?) has changed colors later in the season than it has in previous years.  And, while the red and gold trees may not be as striking here as they are in, say, Vermont or the Adirondacks, the city's buildings can provide a nice backdrop to the leaves of sunset.

I took that photo just before starting to ride with Lakythia and Mildred to the Canarsie Pier and the South Shore of Brooklyn.

Off into the "sunset" we rode!

The Tour I Missed

All right. I'm going to show you some photos I took during my ride yesterday, and I'll let you guess where I rode.


My first stop brought me here:

Here is another shot from that same stop:

A few miles later, I was struck by the lines of the tree in the foreground:

A bunch of miles later, I took a detour.  Actually, I think Tosca detoured me, for she felt right at home here:

Some more miles later, I stopped to visit some friends:

They weren't far from this:

or this:

And thus did my journey end:

All right...So you want to know where I rode?  Well, I'll tellya:  What I just said ought to be a clue.  I was in da Bronx.  My detour, during which Tosca posed in front of the floral shop window, took me through the Westchester County communities of Mount Vernon and Pelham Manor.


I had planned to join Lakythia and Mildred for the Tour de Bronx, one of the few organized bike rides that's still free.  I've always known that there were a surprising number of good places to ride and interesting sights in what may be New York City's most maligned borough.  And, I'll admit, I wanted the opportunity to show them to Lakythia and Mildred.  However, teaching evening classes has thrown off my body rythms, and I don't get up as early as I did when I was teaching day classes.  So I got to the Bronx after registration had ended and the riders left.  I thought I might catch up to them, but I might've made a wrong turn or two. Plus, I realized that in a large organized ride, I might not find them.  So I gave up and gave into a ride that basically happened.  When I'm riding alone on as beautiful a day as we had yesterday, I don't mind that.


I must say, though, that today I noticed changes in tree coloration for the first time this year.  I'm not the only one who think it's happening late this year.  Although trees and plants have their own internal "clocks", at least one person who's knowledgeable about such things has suggested that that the relatively warm and very wet season we've had might've wreaked havoc with the trees' timing.


In any event, it was a fine ride, but it would have been better with Lakythia and Millie.  Does this mean I should return to teaching day classes?

Balancing Acts

Meteorologists are saying that this is already the seventh-wettest year on record here in New York.  And we have almost three months left in the year.  So, while we may not have the wettest year ever, it seems that this year will almost certainly be among the wettest five, or even four.


Don't you just love it when TV and meteorologists talk about "going for a record," as if there's anything we can do about it? I mean, it's not like we're sprinters and this is the Olympics or the Tour de France. Or--given that this is October--it's not like we're Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera in the baseball playoffs.


It does seem, though, that anything done outdoors--whether riding a bike, playing a baseball game or holding a street fair--involves striking a balance with the risk of rain.  How much of a chance do you want to take?  How much can or will you do before the rain falls, and under what conditions do you want to continue?  


Anyway, the other day Lakythia, Mildred and I went on one of those "playing chicken with the rain" rides where we did some miles and stopped in a couple of bike shops. Mildred didn't like the bike she'd just bought, so she wanted to exchange it.  However, she also wanted to see another had to offer before going to the shop where she bought the bike.


She'd bought some absolutely hideous-looking Trek road model.  I don't know how it rode, but I could understand her wanting to exchange it because of its sheer garishness (Is that an oxymoron?) alone.  In its place, she got a much prettier (white with emerald green panels and black trim) Specialized Dolce, which I think also fit her better.  


Anyway, our ride ended when she exchanged the bike at Bicycle Habitat in Soho, where I was fitted for, and purchased, Arielle, Helene and Tosca.  I was going to ride with them to Brooklyn, then back to my place, but the Brooklyn Bridge was closed in the wake of the protests.  


And it was starting to rain.  I confessed, "I might just wimp out and take the train home."  


"I simply can't imagine you doing that!," said Lakythia.


So, even though the rain was falling harder by the minute, I rode.  The funny thing was that I somehow felt safer than I would have had the weather remained dry.  Perhaps it had to do with the fact that fewer people were out than one might normally expect when it's getting dark on a Saturday.


At least I didn't suffer what this rider experienced:  

No, I didn't ride with an umbrella the other night. However, I have done that trick before, and I've seen other cyclists--particularly in England and France--using one hand to navigate and the other to (perhaps futilely) keep dry.


Now, of course, everyone who's ever made deliveries on a bicycle has ridden one-handed while using his other hand to carry whatever he was delivering.  Plus, I'm sure many of us have stopped, bought (or picked up) something and carried it home in one hand.  


Once, I carried home a chair I picked up from a curbside.  Another time, I lugged a torchiere-style floor lamp.  I can recall a couple of times when I brought back pizzas that I balanced on one hand (once when I was drunk) as I piloted the bike with the other.  


But, perhaps my strangest (and noblest) bit of one-handed riding came when I picked up a little dog that, apparently, got lost or was abandoned and had never been outside her home before. She looked like one of those dogs that Posh Spice might carry as an accessory.  No one claimed her, and she had a collar but no tag.


I was riding home from a late class and I pedaled down one of the neighborhood's main commercial streets in the hope of finding a vet's office or animal shelter.  No such luck.  Even I'd found one, it might have been closed at that hour.  So, after ambling down that street, and another commercial area, I brought the dog--I don't know what breed she was, exactly--to the local police precinct.  I hoped that, from there, she made it home, or to a home.  At least, I figured, she was off the streets, where she could easily have been run over.  I have to admit, though, that I enjoyed bringing that dog in just to see the expressions on the police officers' faces:  There's nothing like watching macho guys get mushy.

What have you carried during a one-handed bike ride?

A Cyclist Who Definitely Has Her Own Style

Today, on my way to meet Lakythia for a ride, my rear tire blew out.  I cursed my own stupidity:  I tried to milk a battered tire for whatever miles I could get from it, instead of replacing it as an older, wiser cyclist (which I'm supposed to be, hence the title of this blog) would.


Lakythia was a sweetheart about it:  She met me at B's Bicycle Shop on Driggs Avenue.  There, I bought one of the cheaper tires they had (a wire-bead Vittoria Randonneur).  As I installed it, Lakythia test-rode a Fuji single-speed/fixed gear bike.  (See what a bad influence I am on her?) Then, we were on our way.


Well, not quite.  As we were about to set off for a ride along the New Jersey Palisades, someone who doesn't look like any other bike-shop customer you've ever seen rode in. Well, actually, she walked her bike in because she had a flat.  Either way, getting to the shop was a respectable feat, in part because of what she had on her feet.

You know you've spent too much time in bike shops when you ask whether a pair of stiletto heels is SPD or Look compatible.  Sheryl (a.k.a. "Bitch Cakes), as you can see, doesn't ride either kind of pedal.  Her Hello Kitty-mobile has classic cruiser pedals, which makes sense when you look at the bike.


Although I usually ride in skirts, and sometimes in heels, to work, I am a slouch compared to her.  Last week, she rode 120 miles in the dress and shoes, and on the bike,  you see in the photo.   The Transportation Alternatives-sponsored ride took "all day," she said, and included "all kinds" of people.  I did a few of their rides back in the day and I don't doubt what she says.


I must say: Back then, my fantasies included looking something like her, or at least exuding style and being a memorable presence in a similar sort of way.  To tell you the truth, I still wouldn't mind it, although I'm not sure I could pull of her look.  And, frankly, I'm too much of a scaredy-cat to get all of those tatoos, even if they would go with her Hello Kitty purse--which, of course, went with her bike.


We only got to talk briefly because, after her flat was fixed, she had to go to a photo shoot.  But I enjoyed talking with her, as I found her to be friendly and articulate.   


So, of course, is Lakythia, which is one of the reasons I enjoy riding to her.  Plus, anyone who can put up with my scatter-brainedness and complete lack of navigational ability is exactly the sort of person I want and need as a riding buddy, and friend!

Actually, she's checking her GPS just in case!  Me, I prefer riding off into the sunset, even if it's seen through a gate!

A "Duck" Bicycle Rack And Two Interesting Shops

This might be the very first "duck" bike rack I've ever seen:

So what does this bike rack have to do with ducks?, you ask. Well, as you'll notice, the rack is made of bike frames--or, at least that's what they appear to be.


On seeing it, I couldn't help to think of the "Duck" building on Long Island:

Built during the 1930's, it was located on the site of a onetime duck ranch. (That seems almost oxymoronic,doesn't it?) For decades, duck and other poultry were sold from it.  After the owners of the duck farm retired during the early 1980's, the state bought the building and moved it a few miles from its original location.


As corny as the building might be, I daresay that it's aged better than almost any piece of Brutalist architecture ever has. 

But I digress.  Mark, the owner of Zukkie's Bicycle Shop, told me that a nearby metalworking shop made the rack for him. It's apt for his store which, until recently, was a vintage/thrift shop.  He still has some of those interesting, old and odd items he had in his emporium's earlier incarnation, but he is expanding his bike line.   The main emphasis seems to be on repairs and used bikes, though I did see a new Raleigh single speed there.  


The store is on Bushwick Avenue, near the point where the eponymous neighborhood borders on hipster haven Williamsburg.   It's still an ungentrified area; housing projects stand only three blocks away.  His emphasis on used bikes and repairs, and the shop's lack of "bling"--along with its reasonable prices--show,if nothing else, an attempt to fill the divergent demands and needs of the neighborhood.


Lakythia and I went there after the rear tire of her GT mountain bike flatted twice.  I didn't have a spare tube in the size she needed and, as it turned out, even if I'd had one, she'd have gotten another flat because the rubber rim strip wouldn't stay in place.  Mark fixed that problem and, while we waited, Lakythia took a quick spin on Tosca.  It was her first experience of riding a fixed gear; she seemed to see it as a challenge.  I've a feeling she's going to try it again, if for no other reason that she was amazed at how responsive the bike is, especially after riding a mountain bike.


Anyway, after she and I parted, I stopped in another bike shop on my way home.  I had an excuse:  It opened only recently, and my curiosity got the best of me, as it often does.  

Silk Road Cycles is found just past the end of the Kent Avenue bike lane in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.  An unprepossesing sign that reads "New Bicycle Shop at Calyer and Franklin" is the only indication of its existence.  However, the space, though small, is clean, uncluttered and very inviting.  The last quality has, in part, to do with Eric, the manager and Brendon, the owner.  They are very good about answering questions and can discuss bike-related (and non-bike-related) subjects intelligently.  And, in their interactions with other customers that I observed, they are not condescending and have none of the wannabe-racer or hipster attitude one finds in many other shops.


What I liked best, though, is that their emphases seem to be on quality and practicality.  While they had a couple of racing bikes, most of what I saw on the floor were bikes and accessories meant for transportation, day-tripping and touring.  There weren't any 'hipster fixies." Most of the bikes were steel, and they stock a number of parts and accessories from Nitto and Velo Orange.  I have been looking for a front rack for Vera; given their selection, I think I'll give them some business.  (Don't worry, Bicycle Habitat, I'm not abandoning you!)

Hopefully, Not Only On Sundays

On Sunday, I took Tosca out for a ride with Lakythia her friend Mildred.  It's the first time I've seen Lakythia since I got back from Prague, so of course there was lots to talk about.  One of the things I like about Lakythia is that she's a great social rider:  I never feel as if I'm sacrificing the "social" part of riding with her, and I also don't feel as if I'm sacrificing the quality of my ride to be social.  And I felt the same way about Mildred.  In some ways, she's my opposite:  She's petite, wiry and very athletic-looking, yet she has one of those gamine oval-shaped faces that allows her to wear her hair close-cropped and look absolutely great.


I can't help but to wonder what kind of a cyclist, and person, I might be if I had ridden with them, or people like them, earlier in my life.


I've had too much time to wonder a lot of things, in spite of all of the work I've had to do. It's rained, torrentially, almost nonstop since my most recent ride.  The weather we've had during the last few days actually feels more like what I expected when everyone was warning us that Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene was going to level, inundate and otherwise annihilate this city.  


You know you're not riding enough when...You plan on making an equipment change on one of your bikes and start to think maybe you won't do it after all, even though you've bought the parts you need for it.  I've tweaked the levers on Helene a bit, and the brakes feel a little better.   I'll need to test-ride them a bit more.  On one hand, I like the idea of keeping the bike as it is because, well, that would  be easier.  Plus, the dual-pivot sidepull brakes are simply easier to adjust and maintain than centerpulls, and have a "cleaner" look to them.  They also are chunkier, and I get the feeling the centerpulls might actually look classier, in a retro sort of way (especially if I install the mini-rack on the front) on the mixte frame.  Finally, they just might give me better modulation, and they will almost certainly fit better around the fenders.


Oh well.  I just want to get in a bunch of good miles before we get some snow, slush and other wintry delights.

At The End Of Today's Limits

Well, the thunderstorms we had yesterday got rid of the heat and humidity--for a couple of hours this morning, anyway.   To be fair, although it turned into a warm, sticky day, it wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday.  Still, I overdressed:  After going to Parisi's for a couple of snacks to take on the ride, I changed from the tank top I'd been wearing, and intended to wear, on my ride for a heavier, three-quarter sleeve shirt.  At least the shirt is cotton, and kinda cute (or so I've been told).


Anyway, it felt good to get out earlier than I had been riding, and to ride with Lakythia.  She says that today I pushed her past an old limit of hers.  It was funny to hear that:  For a moment, I though of myself riding in a studded leather bustier.  Then again, I've never owned one of those, and finding one to fit me probably wouldn't be easy!


What she meant was that we went on a longer ride than any other she'd taken in a long while.  The funny thing is that I wouldn't have known that unless she'd told me:  She was tired, but so was I.  It was the kind of day that would have tired out just about anybody who was riding five or more hours and wasn't a Cat III racer.


I do have one excuse for being tired:  I rode in a fixed gear.  I don't mean to blame the bike;  Tosca, when I pedal her, just wants to keep on going.  But I simply didn't have the option of shifting gears, which I would have liked later in the ride.  When you can't shift gears, even ascending a ramp to a bridge walkway can seem like a real climb.


I find that it's always late in a ride of two hours or more (depending on the season and my condition) that I notice the difference between the way my bikes feel.  Arielle and Helene remain comfortable and, like Tosca, just want to keep on going.  


However, I feel that of all of my bikes, Arielle can "carry" me the most at the end of a ride:  I can just find a comfortable gear and she'll get me home.  Plus, the drop bars allow me to find a position that's comfortable.  Paradoxically, sometimes I want to ride in the "drops" when I'm tired, because the efficiency of the position helps the bike to maximize whatever energy I still have left.  Of course, I can also do that on Tosca, but I can't shift to a lower gear.  On the other hand, on Helene, riding on the forward position of the Porteur bars isn't as efficient as riding on drops.  Then again, if I want to, I can ride upright on Helene, which I can't do on Arielle or Tosca.


Of course, I didn't explain all of this to Lakythia, mainly because I wasn't thinking about it while we were riding.  However, if she wants to know more about such things, or turn into a gearhead, I can help her with that, too.  For now, I'm content to have found someone else with whom I enjoy riding.

Something I Didn't Know I Missed

I just remembered the stars
I love them, too
whether I'm floored watching them from below
or whether I'm flying at their side.


Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet wrote those lines in his wonderful poem, "Things I Didn't Know I Loved."  Think of what "My Favorite Things" might have been like had Julie Andrews been Turkish, lived in Russia and spent a decade or two in prison for opposing her government and advocating world Communism.


This evening, you might say that I experienced Something I Didn't Know I Missed.  I took an early evening ride with a new friend--yes, the new riding partner I've mentioned--and got home invigorated.  


Back when I was at Rutgers, I used to ride a couple of evenings a week with a group of cyclists from the local club. We finished our day's work or classes at around the same time and, since we were within a few-mile radius, it was fairly easy to meet early enough so that we'd have a couple of hours of daylight, or non-darkness, at least at this time of the year.  We'd put in anywhere from 20 to 40 miles, depending on when and where we started and what kind of pace we kept.  

Sometimes the rides took us along the turbid river; other times, we pedalled up the foothills of the Watchungs, which poked out like the aged but not dulled edges of the teeth of an old woman who had lived through anger and melancholy.  I had some vague notion, then, that I was looking at the future, if not my future.   A few times, we even took late-Friday rides to the ocean, where, if we were lucky, we'd see reflections of stars on darkening blue waves, and we'd spend the weekend with someone or another who had a rental or time-share in one of the nearby bungalows.


I didn't merely enjoy those rides at the end of the day; they were a kind of jeu d'esprit for me.  Perhaps that is the reason why they would, in time, become the first rides I would ever lead.  


Then I graduated, moved, moved on and didn't think about those rides for a long time.  I did not get into the habit of late-day or early-evening rides again for another two decades or so.  By then, I was living in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I was training regularly in Prospect Park, so I was always hooking up with someone or another.  In those days, I rode mainly with other male cyclists because I was still living as male and was in the best condition of my life, so it was difficult to find a female cyclist who could challenge me. The exception was Tammy who, of all of the people with whom I was ever in an intimate relationship, was the only one who even came close to sharing my enthusiasm for cycling.


I didn't know, until today, how much I missed those twilight rides with someone who shares my enthusiasm for them.  I have taken such rides by myself, as I like to ride alone sometimes.  But a ride into the sunset, if you will, becomes even more interesting with someone else because it allows you and the person accompanying you to let down the defenses, or simply release the stress of that day.  It's sort of a healthier version of taking a cigarette break with someone.

Tonight Lakythia and I met at the little park with the big statue where we'd met for our previous two rides.  Near the end of our ride, I half-jokingly pointed out that we had done le Tour de Brooklyn Juif:  the tour of Jewish Brooklyn.  We'd pedaled through back streets of Williamsburg that would not have looked out of place in the Warsaw stetl during the 1930's; from there,  between rows of grand houses on and near Eastern Parkway that, as elegant as they are, seem to reflect the graying post-Hapsburg skies of Mittleuropa. From there, we rolled down a couple of streets with long, slow inclines to  the modern homes of modern Orthodox Jews in  Midwood and Flatbush.

  


After all of that, we ended up in Sheepshead Bay, which looks more like a New England fishing village.  And we'd done about 30 miles, all told. 


I never knew I missed ending a day in this way.