What could have been better than this: a late-afternoon ride on a perfect Spring day?
It's the sort of thing that can make you happy to, well, be. Scrims of cloud swirled around the bright sun. Breezes puffed petals from flowers that have bloomed for a few days and, at times, gusted and rippled the water around my ride.
My little adventure took me to the Coney Island pier.
From there, I pedaled along the ocean and New York Bay under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.
The only thing that wasn't almost perfect was this last photo. But that was my fault. I'm including it anyway because even though the saddle and part of the handlebars were cut off, Tosca still looks great, as she always does.
Today's rain felt more like it was driven from November than something that fell from a late April sky. And the temeperature reached only 8C (45F).
But the cold gray dampness might have made the cherry blossoms, which finally began to bloom during the past few days, all the more vibrant. Their fresh pink flowers are always a sign, at least for me, that it really is spring. And that, of course, usually means a nice atmosphere as well as backdrop for cycling.
And wouldn't you know it? I came across this:
And this:
I hope that, in spite of the fact that I've done so much less cycling this year than I'd done by this time in other years, this cycle season, and I, are about to bloom.
Que votre route soit couverte de petales de fleurs de cerisier.
In this part of the world, this winter has been brutal and seemed endless--at least in comparison with the past few.
On the other hand, much of Europe has experienced one of the mildest winters in some years. So, cyclists are enjoying the weather and the budding flora.
Many European cities are lovely in the spring. But seeing this photo made me want to be in Leiden right now, astride my wheels:
Now I'm going to ask a silly question: Is the plural of crocus "croci"? Or is it "crocuses"?
After yesterday's deluges, riding to work this morning under a sun thinly veiled by high cirrus clouds was simply delightful. Doing the commute with an engaging man--and good cyclist--made it even better.
His name is Allen. Or is it Alan? However, he spelled it, he was keeping up a good pace--and riding an intriguing bike. I'd seen one or two like it before, but his was the first I'd seen in a large frame size. I didn't get a chance to photograph it, but I've found images of that model on the web.
It's a Motobecane Le Champion. He said he bought it used in 1981, in his native California. I'm not surprised that he's still riding it: The frame, which was hand-brazed with Reynolds 531 tubing, is as solidly as it is beautifully built.
If I recall correctly, Le Champion was the top Motobecane racing model until the Team Champion, on which Luis Ocana won the 1973 Tour de France, came out. Allan's Le Champion appeared to be from about 1974 or so, based on decals and paint that looked like this:
Sometime in around 1975, Motobecane started to use blockier lettering rather than the script you see in the photo. But, in 1974, Le Champions were offered in the color shown. The catalogues referred to it as "silver lilac." It's one of my favorite bike colors of all time, because it has the character of purple that I so love, but it also has, to some degree, the elegance of silver Cinelli bikes from that same era.
"Velouria"--who inspired me to start this blog--has a Mercian fixed-gear bike in a similar color, although I think hers is a bit more purplish. I love it, too. It's what I would have chosen for my own Mercians if I hadn't gone with the purple/green (which actually looks purple most of the time) finish they sport.
Le Champions were equipped with a combination of high-end French and Campagnolo components. Alan, or someone else, swapped out the original Campy Nuovo Record derailleurs for Sun Tour Cyclones which, in my opinion, shift better. And modern Mavic rims were laced to the vintage Campagnolo hubs. But the bike still had its original Stronglight cranks, Campagnolo brakes and other parts.
He said he'd like to give the bike a "facelift." Whatever he does, I hope he keeps the original color.
Very few things in this world make me as happy as I am when I see cherry blossoms in bloom.
This year, they seem especially full and vibrant. Perhaps it's because they opened their flowers a bit later than they normally do (or so it seems). Or, they may seem so bright because Spring came late and the winter, though not exceptionally cold or snowy, seemed interminably gray.
Anyway, I didn't have my regular camera with me when I rode to work today. So, I used my cell phone to capture the radiance of these cherry blossoms:
So far, this spring hasn't brought warmth and sunshine at the same time. Most days, we haven't had either. As I joked with a co-worker, it's like London without tea time, pub brews and all of the other things for which people journey to Cockaigne, a.k.a. The Big Smoke.
But I digress. Today we have had fairly cool temperatures with bright sunshine. On my ride to work, I saw large numbers of trees in bloom. The cherry blossoms are finally spreading their pink cheer, purple curls of hyacinths are rising from the ground and lilac buds are pulsing from limbs that have lived through another winter.
Although I don't mind cold weather and overcast skies (as long as I'm not sloshing through sleet!), I can feel myself opening as I ride by spring blooms.
One day, I was talking with someone I admired as an artist and took as a kind of spiritual adviser. (I was young then.) I asked her what she wanted most.
I was expecting something deep and profound--or, at least, something that would have sounded deep and profound to me back then. (I think it was around the time I read Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf and Siddhartha.) Here's what she said:
A simple life and innocent times.
Now, at the time I thought neither was possible--and, that, in fact, they were marketing tropes. Yep, you can live the simple life if you can afford it, and you can have innocent times if your world is, well, a simple place. The truth is, of course, that I never could have had innocent times because I wasn't so innocent and times were never simple because I was simpler than I was willing to acknowledge.
But I digress. For the first time in decades, I thought of that encounter when I stumbled across this photo:
I can just imagine unrolling what's strapped to the saddle and unfurling myself on it, in a field where I might fill the basket on the front of the bike:
I guess there are actually people who live that way. Goddess bless 'em. (Hey, changing genders turned me into a feminist!)
Both photos come from the lovely blog A Serene Life For Me.
