Standing Still

Late yesterday afternoon I rode along the North Shore of Queens and Nassau County.  The streets of Malba, Whitestone, Bayside, Little Neck and Great Neck were all but deserted.  So were the parks and other public spaces.

On the beach at Francis Lewis Park, I felt as if I were the only one who was moving.

And, judging from the lack of traffic on the Whitestone Bridge, I may have been the only one going anywhere.

Of course, it takes a lot to stop Arielle, my Mercian Audax, or any of my other bikes!

Offering An Illusion Of Safety

Sometimes there just isn't a better way.

I am reminded of that whenever I ride along the North Shore of Long Island and eastern Queens.  The area offers much, from mansions and country clubs with the Gatsby vibe to picturesque towns like Roslyn (where, incidentally, Gabriela Mistral--the first Latin American and fifth woman to win the Nobel Prize for Literature--spent her last few years) as well as tidal wetlands, beaches, bird sanctuaries--and cliffs.  Best of all, there are actually some nice roads for cycling and a few bike lanes, including one that winds along the bay near Udall's Cove Park. 

Cyclist riding on Northern Boulevard near the Little Neck Bay bridge

The problem is in getting there from my part of Queens.  I know a few decent routes that will get me to Bayside, about 20 kilometers from my apartment.  Little Neck Bay, an arm of the Sound, reaches into the neighborhood, and you have to cross it in order to get from Bayside to Little Neck and Nassau County.  Oh, I could get around that body of water if I take a detour southward--one which I actually don't mind, as there are some quiet side streets and a rather nice park (Alley Pond) along the way.  I don't mind, as long as I have enough time or am not trying to stay ahead of rain I didn't anticipate before my ride.


But if you want to go directly from western Queens, where I live (just across from Manhattan), there is only one choice if you don't want to swim or take the Long Island Railroad:  Ride the Route 25A, a.k.a. Northern Boulevard, bridge over Little Neck Bay.  

Northern Boulevard is a four-lane road.  For most of its length, at least in Queens and Nassau County, it is a commercial thoroughfare,  which means that it is heavily trafficked.  But even where it cuts through parks and nature preserves-- as it does on either side of the Bay bridge-- there is little if any respite from the traffic because, as it happens, highway exit and entrance ramps veer from and merge with the road near the bridge.

At 6:30 on a summer morning almost two years ago, 78-year-old Michael Schenkman was cycling eastward, in the direction of the bridge--ironically, on his way to the nearby Joe Michaels Mile Bike Path.   A black Chevrolet Impala traveling in the same direction on Northern collided with Schenkman, who died shortly afterward.  The driver, to his credit, remained at the scene.

223rd Street and Northern Boulevard, where Michael Schenkman was killed

After the crash, the city's Department of Transportation came up with a plan to create a bike lane on the north side of the bridge by taking out a lane of traffic.  The local community board approved it, but changed its mind just as the DOT was beginning to work on it last September.  Tomorrow, members of that board will march along the side of the bike lane project.  They--led by State Senator Tony Avella--want the DOT to scrap the lane and, instead, expand the width of the sidewalk so that it can be shared by cyclists and pedestrians.

As someone who has pedaled that stretch of Northern Boulevard dozens of times, I can say that those folks probably aren't cyclists it would be a terrible idea for everyone.  First of all, no one quite knows how wide the sidewalk would have to be in order to accommodate both cyclists and pedestrians--and whether it would mean new construction or taking out another lane of traffic. Either way, it would probably cost more than what board members claim--or, for that matter, the DOT's project.

Worse, though, is that the sidewalk crosses a highway exit ramp.  It's bad enough when pedestrians have to walk into the crosswalk with cars streaming on the ramp; I can only imagine the consequences if cyclists and pedestrians are forced to share that crosswalk!

Some experienced cyclists (like me) who are familiar with the area have learned how to at least minimize the risks while riding along the bridge and Northern Boulevard.  A shared sidewalk would give less-experienced cyclists (and those unfamiliar with the area) the illusion of safety, which can be worse than any hazard of the road.

Just Ahead Of The Dawn

This semester, I teach early classes on Monday and Wednesday. Yes, I volunteered for that as part of a deal, sort of. But that's another story.

Anyway, today I decided to ride to work a little earlier than usual so I could do a bit of work before classes.  Also, I sensed I would have an even more pleasant commute than usual.

I pedaled across the Queens span of the RFK Memorial Bridge just in time to see the sun rising over the North Shore of Queens and Long Island--just beyond Rikers Island, and just ahead of a southbound Amtrak train that would pass over the Hell Gate Bridge.

And I was pedaling just ahead of the sunrise.  One of my students said I brought light into the room today.  I wonder whether she saw me riding across the river, in front of Hell Gate.  

A Project's Maiden Voyage

The other day was a fine early-spring day.  Yesterday was just like it, only warmer and with less wind.

It seemed like a good day for a maiden voyage.  Yes, I took my winter project out for a ride.  I'd planned to take it for a "shakeout" of, say, 20 kilometers.  Then I'd go home, have lunch and take a ride on one of my Mercians.

But a ride to the World's Fair Promenade and Flushing Meadow park turned into a North Shore jaunt that took up the late morning and early afternoon.  The day was just so nice that I didn't want to go back inside.  Also, I was starting to form a few early impressions about the bike and wanted to spend some more time on the road to examine them, if not in depth.

Also, I wanted to see whether any problems would develop.  So far, I haven't found any.  I'll need to do only the things one normally has to do with a new build (even when using old parts):  Cables and spokes need re-tensioning and I'm going to tweak the saddle and handlebar position a bit.  So far, however, I don't think I'll need to make any major changes.

I reckon I rode 85 or 90 kilometers with a few hills and rough patches.  The bike is both more stable and sprightly than I expected it to be.  It seems, so far, to ride like a less refined version of Vera--which is not a bad thing, necessarily.

Years ago, I had a set of Weinmann 605 brakes on my Romic and one of my Treks.  I liked them then, and now I remember why:  They have a very firm response which, I believe, is enhanced with Mathauser (Kool Stop) brake pads.  I am especially pleased that they are playing nice with the inverse brake levers.

And I remembered what I liked so much about SunTour derailleurs back in the day:  They, like the brakes, have a positive response.  I wondered, however, what the shifting would be like with a modern chain on an old freewheel.  I wasn't so worried about whether they'd mesh:  The freewheel I installed hadn't been used much, if at all:  It was about as close to new as it could be without being new.  It is, though, a five-speed freewheel, which has wider spacing between the cogs than what's found on modern cassettes.  And the chain--a SRAM PC-830--is made for 8-speeds.  

Happily, I didn't miss a shift.  The "pickup" was quicker than I expected, and the chain engaged the cogs--on a SunTour Winner Pro freewheel--without any problems.  The drivetrain shifted and ran quietly.

In an upcoming post, I'll list the componentry. For now, I'll mention two interesting (to you bike geeks, I mean enthusiasts, anyway) things I did.

One is in the rear wheel, which I built.  The hub is spaced for a six-speed rear, with a 126mm over-locknut diameter.  I rearranged the spacing--shortening it by 5mm on the right (drivetrain) side and lengthening the left side by the same amount.  In other words, I spaced the right side for a 5-speed freewheel and, in adding the spacers to the other side, made the hub more nearly symmetrical. This reduces the amount of "dish" in the wheel which, I believe, will make it stronger.

The other thing I want to mention is the handlebar tape.  Yes, I used cloth tape--in this case, Tressostar gray and dark blue--and coated it with clear shellac.

That ornament on the stem?  It was an earring.  It was once half of a pair.  I lost its "mate".  So, I cut off the clamp, filed down the stub and attached it to the stem with Crazy Glue!

If you've been reading this blog, you've seen the bag before.  It's the great Randonneur bag Ely of Ruthworks made, which I've used on Vera for the past couple of years.  I hope she and this bike--which I've yet to name--don't fight for custody of it!

To Begin

I don't have a tradition of riding on New Year's Day.  I like to start my year that way, but it hasn't always been possible.  There were New Year's Days on which I was in one place but my bike(s) were someplace else.  Or, I woke up late or hungover, or there was snow or ice on the road.  And then there were the times I couldn't get myself out of bed.  I blame those who were in bed with me for that!

Anyway, today I woke up late, but felt fairly good.  The weather wasn't terribly cold, but it was windy (30MPH/50KPH gusts).  The forecasters said the wind would die down later in the day.  So I spent some time calling friends and family members, and doing a little work on my latest project.

Then, in the middle of the afternoon, I got out for an easy ride.  Parts of it, at one time, were part of my commute.  It includes a few short climbs that aren't really steep but can seem so if you had to stop for a traffic light or two, and therefore didn't build any momentum, before climbing.  Or if you're riding a single-speed, as I did yesterday.  Not Tosca, my Mercian fixie.  Instead, I took the LeTour, which has one gear.

I wound along some side streets in my neighborhood--Astoria--toward the East River, in the hope of seeing the whale that wandered into it.  No such luck:  Either it had wandered back out or was hiding in the depths.  At least, that's what I hope.

(By the way, the East River, which separates Brooklyn and Queens from Manhattan, is not a river. It's really a tidal estuary.  It was called a river because of a mapmaker's error.)

Anyway, I followed the bike lane along 20th Avenue toward LaGuardia Airport.  Just to the east of the terminals, I picked up the World's Fair Promenade along Flushing Bay and pedaled through Flushing to the North Shore.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that the streets, no matter where I rode, were nearly deserted:  Not only was it New Year's Day, it was Sunday.  And, although it was fairly mild, at least for this time of year (45F/8C) and the sun made an appearance, the weather didn't seem to entice many people to go outside.

One thing I love about cycling is that I can ride through an area I've ridden many times before and, by taking a turn, discover something new.  

I came upon this "entrance" to a park at the end of a street in Bayside, near St. Mary's Hospital.  I was ready to duck under that tree and, maybe ride on a dirt path or two--until I got closer and saw the fence behind it.

Actually, the entrance is on the other end of the park--not far away, but not as much of an adventure as entering under a tree!

I couldn't complain, though, about the way my first ride, on the first day of the year, ended:

So I didn't do a , as I did one New Year's Day during my youth. But I didn't have to.  

Chancing Upon A Champion

Funny, how I can ride through an area I know well--or, at least I thought I knew well--and chance upon something I'd never seen before.

New York City's grid pattern seems utterly incongruous in places like Bayside, where North Shore coastline zigs and zags.  (In fact, it seems incongruous that it is, even if only officially, part of New York City.) The nearest subway stop is about seven kilometers away; only a couple of bus lines  along Bell and Northern Boulevards  (the neighborhood's two main throughfares) and a Long Island Rail Road stop just off Northern connect this neighborhood with the rest of the city.

"Neighborhood" seems like a misnomer, as Bayside feels more like what would be described as a "leafy suburb".   If you go there, you're not going for the night life; you are going there to raise your family or, as I did today, for a bike ride along the North Shore.

With its straight-arrow streets and its well-defined, well-ordered yards and other spaces, it's hard to believe that I've actually missed something on previous rides. But today, I turned down a street I'd never ridden before--Corbett Lane--and this caught my eye.

So now I know how the street got its name: James Corbett, the World Heavyweight Boxing Champion from 1892 until 1897.   He won the title by knocking out the "unbeatable" John L. Sullivan and, many historians of the sport argue, changed prizefighting from mere brawling to an art form because of his scientific training and fighting techniques.  He defeated Sullivan by wearing him down with feints and jabs before delivering the knockout blow.  Muhammad Ali, among others, would win titles in the same way.

But he also changed boxing by simply making it more palatable to many who abhorred it.  (Because it was so widely denounced, boxing was illegal in most states, which made it difficult to schedule bouts.)  "Gentleman Jim" was a beloved figure both in and out of the ring because of his manners, clothing and movie-star looks.  In fact, once his boxing career ended, he made more money from acting, on stage and films, than he ever did in the ring.  



In a way, I'm not surprised that he lived in this house:  It is attractive but not ostentatious, though I had to chuckle when I saw this in front:

Tosca, my Mercian fixie, somehow looks more appropriate.  At least she doesn't flinch from a history lesson! 

It was a short but sweet ride, if you'll indulge me a cliche, even if it looked as if I was riding straight into winter on my way home:

Cycling The Fall On The North Shore

Perhaps the fall is inevitable, which is exactly the reason some people live as if it will never happen to them.

Sometimes I think that is one of the messages of The Great Gatsby.  Though the novel was written, and take place, in the 1920s, a line from Prince is fitting:  party like it's 1999.

I got to thinking about Gatsby and what the fall means today because, while riding, I saw this:

and this:

along the North Shore, from Queens into Long Island and back.  

You know the old riddle:  If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?  Well, perhaps someone posed a parallel question:  If trees lose their leaves and nobody sees it, will the fall come?

Jay Gatsby, having grown up on a farm and aspired to the high life, probably never looked at a tree once he left the farm.   I doubt any of the other characters in that novel looked at very many trees or gave much thought to the changing of the season, whether in nature or their lives.

But fall comes to their North Shore playgrounds, just as it comes everywhere else.  For me, it made for a lovely, pleasant ride, one in which I didn't mind that I was pedaling into, or getting sideswiped by, brisk winds, or that as I rode along the water, the temperature dropped (or seemed to drop) to levels for which I wasn't dressed.

Today it was Vera's turn to enjoy the season.  She was dressed for the occasion.  Then again, she always looks right for the ride. So do my other Mercians.  

They have no reason to fear the fall. Nor do I.  

What We Really Go For

From the saddle, you can learn all sorts of interesting things.

For example, I never knew it was possible to camouflage a McDonald’s until I rode on Long Island today.  

It looks more like one of those steakhouses-with-a-view one might find in Roslyn or Sea Cliff or someplace else on the North Shore (a.k.a. Gatsby Country).  Maybe that was the intent of whoever decided to put a fast-food franchise in that house.

When I stopped to take the photo (with my cell phone), I got to talking with a woman who was doing the same thing.  She was visiting relatives, she said, when she noticed it, as I did, in passing.  Her relatives never knew a McDonald’s was there; when her young niece saw it, she exclaimed, “Ooh!  The Ronald Mc Donald House!”

According to the woman, there is upstairs “dining” (Can anything at McDonald’s be so named?) in the upstairs room.  I suppose that it makes sense when you realize that when people go to a restaurant for the view, they’re probably not going for the food anyway.

About those North Shore restaurants:  I didn’t eat (or take in the view) in any of them.  But I rode by some of them.  Roslyn’s downtown, on a cove of the Sound, is particularly lovely.  However, all of those nice old houses (built between 1690 and 1865) are centered around this clock tower:

I actually like the tower, except for one thing:  None of the clocks on any of the tower’s four sides tell the same time.  And none of the times they give are the right time. 

Maybe I shouldn't criticize that.  After all, does anybody look at such a tower (at least these days) to find out what time it is? 

Dodging The Rain For The Light

The past two days have included bouts of rain.  A deluge bore upon us just after I woke up this morning; after that, it seemed to rain every two hours or so.

This afternoon, I decided to do one of my "playing chicken with the rain" rides.  I got on Tosca (She really seems to like those rides!) and dared the skies to spill their wrath on me.


After riding cirlicues of cul-de-sacs and alleys around La Guardia Airport and the World's Fair Marina, I pedaled up the incline from downtown Flushing to Bayside Avenue, which took me to the eponymous neighborhood--and one of my favorite cycling destinations in Queens:

Fort Totten, as I've mentioned in other posts, was built at the point where the East River (which separates Queens from Manhattan, the Bronx and Rikers Island) opens into the Long Island Sound.  Some say that this is where Gatsby's "North Shore" begins.  

It offers one of those "I don't believe I'm in New York City" views.  The great thing about it is that it's as wonderful on a day like today as it is when the sun is shining and there isn't a cloud in the sky.

Some would call the light I saw today "subdued" or even "melancholy".  I wouldn't disagree with either, and enjoy both aspects of it.  In a way, it's rather soothing, even forgiving:  It reminds me, just vaguely, of the light that illunminated many days (especially in the early spring or fall) I lived in Paris and some of the time I spent in Prague.  Although it's a light you in which you can immerse yourself after long periods of difficulty, it is not merely soothing for it brings a lot of things into relief in a way that most people (I include myself) could never do on their own.

As for "playing chicken with the rain":  I felt a few raindrops as I took the photo.  And a few more whisked me as I rushed through Jackson Heights.  But, at the end of the ride, most of the moisture on my skin was my own sweat:  As you might expect, the day was very humid.

Without Mike Or The Green Light

Now that the latest Gatsby movie is in theatres, I thought a North Shore ride was appropriate.  (I'm still not sure of whether I want to see the movie.)  Anyway, here's one of the novel's most iconic scenes, minus the green light.

Then, on my way back, I stopped for a "snack":

Of course that sign for "Mallow Marsh" was placed during the reign of Mayor Rudolph Giuliani.  Can you imagine Mike Bloomberg allowing such a thing?

Accidental Gatsby

As so often happens when I'm riding alone, I didn't exactly go where I'd planned.  Then again, sometimes my plans aren't firm when I'm riding alone.  I can't say they were today.


So...I had a vague idea I might take another ride to Point Lookout.  (Can you tell it's a favorite of mine?)  And, well, I took a "wrong" turn--accidentally, in a Freudian way, if you know what I mean.  I found myself riding underneath an Air France plane that I could've sworn I could've touched.  That meant, of course, I was even closer to JFK International Airport than the union is to management at my job.  (You would really appreciate that comment if you saw what I wrote yesterday on my other blog.)


From there, I rode through a few neighborhoods that I have been to a couple of times before, and a couple of more I haven't seen in years, all of them on one side or the other of the Queens-Nassau county line.  What those places had to recommend them were that they were quiet and traffic-free, which is no small virtue on a nearly perfect day for cycling.  


I passed among residential areas that ranged from cookie-cutter suburban to ostentious in the way of a 1970's Lincoln Continental.  I also passed by and through a couple of rather lovely parks, the Belmont racetrack, then some neighborhoods with increasingly interesting architecture, all the way to the North Shore.

Now, that wasn't the most opulent or architecturally distinctive house I saw.  But I think that if I had lots of money, I'd want to live in something like that. I imagine that the rooms would be full of light undulating in waves like the water that's only about 100 feet away.

I get the feeling Arielle wouldn't mind it at all.  After all, she's the one who led me here.

Some people--and bikes--like the beach. But I think Arielle really loves the light and water and waves.  


Surprisingly, I saw only one other cyclist along that road that skirts Long Island Sound.  However, I did see a fair number of couples--mostly middle-aged and older, though hardly looking worse for it--taking leisurely or romantic strolls.  All of them smiled, waved or said "hello" to me.  


I don't suspect, though, that they'd buy flowers in this place:

To be fair, that florist is nowhere near the Gatsby shoreline I reached by accident.  It's in Richmond Hill:  one of those places where I took a "wrong" turn.  The florist is in business; I've passed it any number of times because it's not far from where I work. Whatever happens to that florist, I hope someone preserves that sign:  If you remember when FTD used the "Mercury" logo in all of its ads, you're old, or at least of my generation.  As you can see, that sign had neon lights on it at one time.  I don't know when they were removed, but somehow I suspect that the sign is from the 1940's, or even earlier.  In those days, the neighborhood was populated mainly by the children and grandchildren of Irish and German immigrants; later, second-generation Italian-Americans (including some relatives of mine) moved in, only to be replaced by the current Indian and Guyanese residents.  


One of the neighborhood's most noted residents was Jacob Riis. But I doubt Gatsby ever went there, even by accident.