A Ride In Autumn Light

 I have no idea of how many miles I rode today. I know that I followed a combination of familiar streets and paths. And my bike—Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore, sang in tune with the autumn breeze, and me.

That last part is what I will remember. And the light that coruscated through the leaves:

Is that—what I will recall—the difference between cycling in midlife and those rides where counted miles?

Cycling In Color

 We haven’t reached peak foliage in this part of the world. Still, there are plenty of vibrant, vivid colors flickering through leaves under a smoldering autumn sun. (It’s kind of odd, isn’t it, to use words like “vivid” and “vibrant” to describe leaves that are dying.) I feel as if I’d witnessed the entire season in this tree on Randall’s Island:

Red, orange, yellow, maroon and still some green. For the past couple of days, I’ve been taking rides, not to go any place in particular or to accumulate miles, but to fill myself with those hues and crisp autumn air. I’m

I guess that’s a perk of midlife: I can get on my bike for sensory experiences. I don’t need to justify what I’m doing or impress anybody. If my bike and body feel right, my ride will reward me. As it did today, and has so many days before.

Workers On A Late-Day Ride

Three weeks after the autumnal equinox, days grow noticeably shorter.  That, I feel, makes late-afternoon rides even sweeter:  Sunlight simmers into shades of sand, stone and rust just before the sun begins to set.

And, it seems, I notice things anew, or for the first time, along familiar routes.  Today, I pedaled a loop that skirted the edge of LaGuardia Airport and wiggled through an industrial waterfront area.  I had one ulterior motive: to climb the local version of Mount Ventoux.  It's nowhere near as high as that iconic French peak that has served as a "statement" climb for Tour de France winners and leaders, but the hill erupts, seemingly out of nowhere, from the cauldron of Berrian Boulevard and up 41st Street.  

After my second climb, I coasted back to Berrian, where a building I'd passed a number of times before caught my eye:

It's a waste water treatment plant, which is why it's surrounded by a chain-link fence.  The ship portal-style holes are telltale signs of an Art Deco-influenced Works Progress Administration building.  Other similarly-styled and -detailed buildings stand in other parts of this city.  This one, though, must have the least conspicuous location as well as purpose of such buildings.

WPA public works buildings like this one often feature some interesting bas-reliefs, often depicting scenes of workers, if in stylized or romanticized ways.  Ironically, works like these were made at about the same time  "social realism"--which also featured stylized and romanticized scenes of workers--was taking shape in the former Soviet Union.

The late day light and air would have been enough of a reward from my late-day ride.  But they highlighted something I noticed, for the first time, along a familiar route.