A series of neighborhoods dangles along the banks of the East River like a cedille from Astoria Park to the Williamsburg Bridge. They include Astoria and Long Island City in Queens and Greenpoint and Williamsburg in Brooklyn. There may be more cyclists, per capita, in this corridor--in which I happen to live--than in any other part of New York City. In fact, I doubt many American urban neighborhoods outside of Portland (and, perhaps, Seattle) can rival the concentratration of bicycles and cyclists found here.
So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see this near the Long Island City (Queens) side of the Pulaski Bridge.
The first time I saw it, I wondered what all of those bicycles were doing in a bus kiosk. Then I saw the sign.
On the block before it, there is a row of bike racks that's almost always full.
The bike at the front makes me wonder just how good an idea unsecured open-air bike parking facilities actually are. On one hand, I'm glad to have dedicated bike-parking spaces. On the other, I can't help but to think that maybe they're targets for bike thieves and cannibals.
Maybe I'm just too accustomed to locking to parking meters and such--or not parking my bike and not doing business with stores that don't allow me to bring my bike in.
Anyway, I got in a quick ride after work the other day. At times like that, I'm thankful for Daylight Savings time, and Tosca likes rhe photo ops available on the Greenpoint (Brooklyn) side of the bridge:
If you've cycled in New York, or any number of other cities, you've probably seen a "ghost bike." It's painted white, and is usually an old, donated or discarded, bike. This somber reminder of a cyclist who's been struck or killed by a motor vehicle is locked to a sign post or other structure by the site of the accident, and is accompanied by a small sign.
When I went to meet Lakythia for a ride yesterday, I saw one I'd seen many times before. Not to make light of it, but I couldn't help but to think, "Where else but in Williamsburg?"
The neighborhood is, after all, the de facto home of the "hipster fixie." As far as I know, this is the only bike of that genre to become a "ghost." It commemorates "Bronx Jon":
To Jon, or your family or friends: I mean no disrespect. I'm glad that you've been so memorialized. I think, though, that your memorial may well be one of a kind.
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!)
Today I took one of those "no destination" rides. Helene and I just sort of wandered from one place to another, doing about 30 or 35 miles in total without getting more than a few miles from my apartment. Such is an enjoyable way--for me, anyway--to spend a warm, humid afternoon after waking up late.
Along the way, I stopped in an Old Navy store. (They didn't stop me from bringing my bike in.) I was looking for at least one nautical-stripe T-shirt. For the longest time, I wore one that I bought in France. You've probably seen them: the kind worn by Breton fishermen and Marseille dock workers and, for a long time, by sailors in the French Navy. They are white, with horizontal navy stripes. For a long time, it was the only white article of clothing I owned.
I also used to have a wool sweater that was the inverse of the T-shirt: navy with cream stripes. It was one of those sweaters with buttons on the left shoulder. I actually wore it on many a cold-weather ride, as the wool was of a very nice grade and tightly woven, and the sweater was of just the right weight and thickness for a variety of conditions.
There are imitations of them available in this country. For all I know, they're not even being made in France anymore. In any event, as I expected, Old Navy didn't have the originals. But they didn't have any imitations, either. On the other hand, I found interesting tank top with a tied back in a kind of "fade" from blue to green to purple. And the green and purple just happen to be the shades, more or less, of Helene as well as Arielle and Tosca, my other Mercians. So of course I couldn't pass it up. One of these days, I'll post a picture in which I wear it--and, of course, I'm riding one of my Mercians.
I also rode to someplace I haven't been in quite a while. It's one of the neighborhoods in which I spent my childhood: Borough Park, in Brooklyn. This is the church in which I was an altar server:
And, diagonally across the street is the school I attended. Here is a section of it:
They are the Holy Spirit parish and school. Between them, I saw this:
Even if I hadn't seen that, I would have been surprised that the school, and even the church, were still open. Even though the temperature rose to just above 90F, all of the females I saw on the streets were wearing thick hosiery (some with seams running down the rear) and long skirts, while all of the males were wearing even longer coats. If they noticed me, I can only imagine what they might have been thinking. For one thing, I was alone and riding a better bicycle than most of them even know exists. Plus, I was the only one riding a bike who was more than about ten years old. And I was wearing a short (by their standards, anyway) denim skirt and a tank top.
I know, from an earlier experience, that the Hasidim don't like to be photographed. Of course, I respect that. But at the same time, I wasn't about to ask any of them to take a photo of me with my bike!
You've seen Hasidim if you've been Williamsburg, another Brooklyn neighborhood. (In fact, shuttle buses run between the two neighborhoods.) What's ironic is that they're in the hipster-fixie capitol of the universe. That makes for some very interesting visual contrasts. One is between the black of the males' coats and hats and the females' skirts, and the day-glo or neon colors of the bikes rolling down the Kent Avenue bike lane or parked in front of the book and music stores, "retro" boutiques and self-consciously funky coffee shops and restaurants of Bedford Avenue. The other contrast, of course, is between the presence of hipsters and their fixed-gear bikes in Williamsburg and the absence of same in Borough Park.
If I could have found a way to photograph what I've just described while respecting the wishes of the Hasidim, I would have done so. All I can do is hope that I've described it enough for you to visualize, at least somewhat.
