Giving My Regards To Old Broadway

I admit:  Yesterday's post wasn't the most cheerful I've written.  But if I'm going to say anything about the history of the bicycle industry, I have to be honest:  There have been scoundrels in it--though, some might say, fewer than in some other industries.

Now I'll give you a more cheerful picture--literally--from cycling's past.

These folks proudly pedaled along Western Boulevard, a road that extended from Grand Circle (now known as Columbus Circle) to Riverside Drive.  Later, the road would become part of Broadway, the great north-south thoroughfare that cuts, curves, zigs, zags, ascends and descends and even loops over 55 km (about 33 miles) from Battery Park at the lower tip of Manhattan to Sleepy Hollow in Westchester County.

You really have to admire those riders' style.  I do, anyway!  

When The Rain Held Out For Time

I am not a shadow; I am not cycling among shadows. There are no shadows:  A couple crosses from a dark canyon of shutters and silence into a delta spreading from the streaming white current of the streetlight and sprayed by a flashing traffic signal.  

The couple crosses the intersection, their bodies making slight bobs with each step.  They look younger, much younger, than I am, but carry with them ages of stone, ages of fire, far older than the bricks and shingles and window panes that line these streets.  

Perhaps they will live the rest of their lives, and their children theirs, on these streets in which the flow of time stops for their history, their eternity, every Friday night.  Or, perhaps, when the streams of sodium vapor light and steel will swell, or the glow of neon will turn the brick houses into the walls of an inferno, and they will leave as, perhaps, their grandparents did from some other place where a cyclist who wasn’t one of them rode through a deserted intersection—or stopped—as they crossed.

They have, probably, another block or two to walk before they reach they reach their parents’ or grandparents’ or friends’ homes—or shul.  I have about another hour of riding ahead of me before I come to my apartment, and Max and Marley.  I hope the rain will hold out until then; it has for most of the afternoon and evening, and this night, for which it was promised.  Even if it doesn’t, I wouldn’t care; in fact, I might even wend my way through more of these streets.

********************************************************************** 

 

 

As it happened, I did ride up one of those one-way street, turned at an avenue, descended another one=way street, and continued along that self-imposed maze for a couple more kilometers than I would’ve ridden otherwise.  Although the night was humid, the air felt more like the kind of pleasant spray you feel on your skin when you stand by the ocean: It was somewhat cool for this time of year.  

I arrived at my apartment dry.  The rain held out, not only for my ride home, but for the ballgame—the Brooklyn Cyclones vs. the Auburn Doubledays—to which I rode, in Coney Island.  Thirty-some-odd kilometers there, a few more than that back.  The Cyclones, in spite of making four errors, won the game in the last at-bat.  As the saying goes, a good time was had by all.

An Ideal Ride, Almost

Many cyclists have their own, very particular definitions of the "perfect" conditions for a bike ride.

Me, I don't have one scenario for the ideal ride.  Rather, I have a few different visions of the best conditions for a day of pedaling.

One of them came true today.  The temperature was neither too warm nor too cool:  For most of my ride, they hovered between 21 and 25C (70 to 77F).  They started as the former and rose to the latter before dropping back as I approached the Atlantic shoreline.  Further inland, the temperature rose to 30C (86F), according to the weather reports I saw. But I was spared that.

But even more important were the sky and light.  The sun shone, mostly through a filter of puffy clouds that did not threaten rain.  So I enjoyed the benefit of bright light without having the sun beating directly on me as it did during my Somerville ride on Memorial Day.

Plus, I encountered relatively light traffic.  I figured I would, which is one of the reasons I decided to do another Point Lookout ride today.  Tomorrow, the weather is expected to be the same, maybe a degree or two warmer.  Because it will be a Saturday, throngs of people will flock to anyplace with a beach.  But today I didn't have to be around them:  Long stretches of sun, sand and waves were almost entirely mine!

The only "smudge", if you will, in this picture was the wind.  It's not that I'm wind-adverse.  Rather, I found myself riding with the wind on the way out, but I had to buck it on the way back.  Like most cyclists, I prefer the opposite.  But I won't complain:  Everything else, including Tosca, was Ideal.  And any day I can ride is a blessing.

Another Bike To Work Month

Here in New York--as in other places--May is Bike Commuting Month.  And Bike to Work Week takes place during that month.

It makes sense:  In any given year, May is the first month with long stretches of weather most people find favorable for cycling.  Those who don't commute (or do any other cycling) during the winter usually resume pedaling in later March or April, but the weather is very chancy and people are as likely to ride a day here, a day there.

I have argued that there should be two Bike Commuting Months--one in Spring, the other in Fall.  If May is a good time for the former, I think the latter should be in October.  There might be a day or two of "Indian Summer", as we've just had, but the oppressive heat and humidity of summer are past.  On the other hand, it's rare to experience sub-freezing temperatures, even at the end of the month.  And, Interestingly, October is typically the driest month. 

http://www.atlantaintownpaper.com/2013/10/bike-work-challenge-october-long/

Now I've learned that in at least one city--namely, Atlanta--this is Bike Commuting Month.  It looks like the folks in the capital of the Peachtree State have some pretty ambitious plans for, as the month's organizers say, getting folks to trade steering wheels for handlebars'".

Will It Become Lost Art?

Yesterday, while riding to my weekly volunteer stint at Recycle A Bicycle, I chanced upon something I may never get to see again:

Two years ago, David Wolkoff, who owns the property on which 5 Pointz is located, announced plans to raze the building and construct two towers of luxury condos in its place.  The demolition has been scheduled for next month.

Given that 5 Pointz is located just behind the old courthouse (one of the most attractive buildings in Queens, in my opinion) and less than half a kilometer from PS 1 and the Citicorp building.  As much as it pains me to say this, it's actually rather surprising that 5 Pointz has endured in its location in a quickly-gentrifying neighborhood for two decades.

That means, of course, something else that it pains me to say:  Two decades' worth of some of the best graffiti, by some of the best-known graffiti artists, will be lost.  And artists who have studios inside the building (for which they've been paying below-market rents) will have to find new digs.  Some might actually leave New York altogether.

It also means the loss of one of those landmarks that provides cyclists in New York with a vista different from any other.  

You Know It's Hot When...

Today the temperature is expected to reach 100F (38C).

Whether or not we reach that meteorological milestone, I know it's hot, and that it's been hot since Sunday.

I know it's hot when I'm riding the streets of this city and hope to see a bunch of kids (or grown-ups) cavorting around an open fire hydrant.  I pretend that I'm Charlton Heston--I mean, Moses--at the Red Sea except, of course, that the plume of water doesn't part to me.  Of course, I don't want it to.

It's hot when I don't mind some teenager aiming the spray at me--although I have to wonder about any teenager who wants to see an old lady like me in a wet T-shirt!

If I were this woman, I don't know that I would merely stand in front of the fountain on a day like today:

Diane Randall.  Image from VeloJoy.

Less Powerful Than Sandy, But Hotter Than Liberty

Today I took a ride I've taken many times before:  up to the Bronx, across to Harlem and the George Washington Bridge, then down the Palisades to Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island.  

Although high, puffy clouds floated across the sunny sky and breezes lightened the early summer warmth in the air, surprisingly turbulent waves chopped against the Jersey City shoreline:

The water is actually closer than it appears: It lapped up against my tires.  If the Hudson River--really an estuary of the Atlantic at that point--could be so roiled on such a serene day, you can only imagine the storm surge that Sandy brought.   

On the ferry from Staten Island, I got to talking with a young woman and a friend of hers who'd just arrived in New York from California.  So, of course, he wanted to get a look at the Statue of Liberty.  We exchanged e-mail addresses before embarking.  As I crossed Battery Park from the ferry terminal, I chanced upon this:

"My Girl Is Hotter Than The Statue of Liberty"

    

New York's Bike-Share Program: Who And What Is It For?

From Velojoy

The bike-share program here in New York has just passed its first week. Of course, it's too early to render verdicts on it, although that hasn't stopped anyone--whether a proponent or opponent of the program--from doing so.  The other day, I wrote about Dorothy Rabinowitz's hysterical editorial; yesterday, the Daily News harped on the fact that a couple of bicycles lost their pedals and a few kiosks (out of hundreds) didn't accept would-be riders' credit cards. 

On the other hand, even though I'm glad that the program is finally up and running (two years after its planned launch), I still think it's too early to pronounce the program is a success.  For one thing, as a Time article points out, it's more expensive than its counterparts in Paris and London. In those cities, a day pass costs about what a single ride on the Metro or Underground costs; one day on a Citibike in the Big Apple will cost you about what five subway or bus trips would cost.  And, if you don't check into one of the kiosks within 30 minutes (or 45 minutes if you buy the lifetime pass), it's even more expensive.

The rules I've just described, as well as the cost, limit the usefulness of the program for commuters as well as its desirability for tourists and recreational riders.  Even if you're a very fast rider, it's difficult to "explore" on the bike, let alone reach the more far-flung corners of the city, within those time limits. As all of the kiosks are in Manhattan south of 59th Street and in the Brooklyn neighborhoods closest to Manhattan, Queens, the Bronx and Staten Island are out of reach. (The ferry ride alone to or from Staten Island takes about twenty minutes.)  So are Harlem and Coney Island. 

Perhaps these limitations on tourists and recreational riders wouldn't be of such concern if the bike share program were intended to be a supplement to the mass-transit system.  That might work in Paris, as no place in the City of Light is more than 500 meters (about 3/10  of a mile, or six blocks) from a Metro station and the buses are efficient.  It might even work in London: Although it's more spread out than Paris, its Underground branches through the city.  On the other hand, not only is New York bigger than those cities; it also has subway lines that are more clustered together in certain parts of the city, leaving other parts without service. (Parts of eastern Queens and southeastern Brooklyn are seven to ten kilometers, or four to six miles, from the nearest subway station.) Worse yet, the buses--especially the ones that run cross-town in Manhattan--are notoriously slow.

So, perhaps, the City's Transportation Department and Citi Bank, the program's sponsor, need to be clearer about the intended purpose(s) of the Bike Share program and structure policies and rates accordingly.  And, as I've mentioned in a previous post, it would help if New York were truly made a more bike-friendly environment. 

 

Dear Motorist: Why We Are In "Your" Lane

Last week, I was riding down Second Avenue in Manhattan.  I'd stopped at 37th Street, where traffic exits the Queens-Midtown Tunnel.  Even the most steel-nerved messengers can't cross that steady stream of cars, taxis, SUVs and livery vans without having green signal or being waved through by a traffic cop.

One of those cops, a young African-American with a boyish face, approached me.  "Miss!"  You're supposed to ride in the bike lane."  He pointed across the avenue to it.  "You'll be much safer there."

As I was focused on getting through that bottleneck--Below 34th Street, there's usually much less traffic on Second--I didn't argue with him.  I've "educated" more than a few police officers and other people in my time; some were receptive but others became more adamant in their assertion that if there is a lane, a cyclist must use it--or, worse,that bikes simply don't belong on the street at all.  

So, I crossed over to the lane and, after I passed the last clump of traffic at NYU Medical Center, I moved back into the traffic lane.

I hadn't been riding that line before I saw the cop because the section of it just below the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge, which I rode into Manhattan, was blocked off.  And, when it opened again somewhere around 52nd Street, it didn't appear to be in very good condition.  In the last couple of years, there has been a lot of coonstruction along Second, where a new subway line is being built.

Poor surface conditions are just one reason why some of us don't use the bike lanes, at least some of the time.  I found this list of other reasons on NYC Bike Commuter:

The bottom line, dear motorist, is that we are in "your" lane because it's often safer for both us and you to be there.  In their infinite wisdom, the designers of lanes next curbs have--probably unwittingly--made things less safe for you as well as for us.  

A Rainy Commute Home

This evening I could have used one of these:

From eta

Actually, I did have raingear for my ride home.  It hadn't rained on my way to work, but the weather forecasters promised rain for the afternoon and evening.  

I managed to stay pretty comfortable throughout the ride.  The only problem was that it was dreary:  If someone wanted an image of what it's like to fall into a depression, tonight's ride home could have provided it.  It was almost, but not quite cold enough to snow.  Hard, real rain fell:  not  a drizzle that fizzles as it reaches the ground and simmers softly around the halos of streetlights.  And, this is the time of year when houses are still decorated for Christmas because people haven't yet managed to take down lights they are no longer turning on.  

To paraphrase Wallace Stevens, I may just be the sort of woman who prefers a drizzle in San Francisco to a downpour in Corona.  

Twenty-Five Years After We Stopped A Bike Ban

Twenty-five years ago this summer, cyclists in New York City staged a rebellion.

In a way, that such a thing would take place in the august days of the Reagan Administration seems ironic.  Then again ACT UP held its first demonstrations that year, and the following year,a riot in Tompkins Square Park rocked the city.

The difference between those demonstrations and the ones cyclists staged during the summer of 1987 is that the latter seemed, on its face, even more improbable than the other two.  By the time ACT UP first met, large numbers of gay men had organized, politically and socially, in response to the AIDS epidemic, which would wipe out whole blocks of San Francisco and downtown Manhattan.  Meanwhile, residents of the neighborhood around the park agreed that the park had become a de facto homeless shelter and a haven for drug dealers, vagrants and loud musicians who had no other venue.  Those residents were deeply divided over what had to be done.  But after the city instuted a 1 am curfew, nearly everyone agreed that officers of the NYPD's Ninth Precinct routinely overstepped their boundaries and, in some cases, committed outright assault and battery.

In contrast, cyclists in New York were scarcely organized at all, save for whatever club affiliations they may have had. Least organized of all were the bike messengers, who were an even larger presence on the city's streets than they are now.  As great as their numbers were, they had absolutely no political clout because nearly all of them were poor (as I was, several years earlier, when I turned to that line of work) and some were homeless.  It wasn't a job for the hipster-equivalents of that time; rather, as one of my colleagues in that business said, we were "the rejects of society," whether or not through our own doing.

Why am I mentioning that?  Well, the impetus for that summer's demonstrations was an action then-Mayor Edward Koch (after whom the Queensborough Bridge is now named) aimed squarely at the messengers.   On 22 July of that year, Hizzoner stood on the steps of City Hall to announce a ban on bicycling in an area of Midtown bounded by 59th and 31st Streets, on the north and south, respectively, and by Park and Fifth Avenues on the east and west.  The ban would take effect six weeks later, in early September, after the signs had been posted and legal niceties dispensed with.

What is truly remarkable is that cyclists who weren't messengers--and people who weren't cyclists at all--actually expressed outrage at the proposed ban.  New York cyclists who weren't messengers weren't nearly as numerous or diverse in those days; to see as many of them unite with messengers--with whom they had almost nothing in common aside from the fact that they pedaled astride two wheels--caused even media outlets like the New York Post, which did much to foment anti-bike hysteria, to take notice,and even to portray messengers' routes as "the sweatshops of the street."

For the next few weeks, hundreds of cyclists--I was among them on a couple of occasions--gathered at around 5:30 pm (just after most messengers' workdays ended, spread across Sixth Avenue and paraded from Houston Street to Central Park, a distance of about three miles.  We pedaled at a snails' pace--about five mph (eight kph) so that passerby could look at us and walkers, joggers and runners could join us. We stopped at red lights and let pedestrians cross in front of us, which showed that we were "friendly" and prevented the police from using the pretext of "blocking traffic" to bust our permit-less rides.  

During that long, hot summer, there were other actions, such as the time when cyclists wended through the East 40s and 50s on foot to show how the ban could lead to pedestrian gridlock.  It had another effect: It mixed gritty messengers with, not only other kinds of cyclists, but with executives in bespoke suits on their way to lunch meetings in posh restaurants.  This increased understanding of, if not sympathy for, cyclists:  While tension between messengers and cabdrivers has never entirely abated, at least they started to see each other as fellow "working stiffs", which helped to create support for safer conditions for cyclists and better working conditions for messengers.

I can't help but to think that the contact between cyclists and non-cyclists led to public denunciations of the ban, which the New York State Supreme Court invalidated on a technicality (The city hadn't published official notice.) for an additional 45 days.  That meant the ban couldn't take effect until mid-October.  At that point, Mayor Koch, who prided himself on his taste for a good fight, threw in the towel.

It will be interesting to see what future historians and biographers say (if, indeed, they say anything at all) about this episode of the Koch regime--and cycling in New York City.  A bas l'interdiction!

How Do You Cross This Bridge When You Come To It?

As a bridge--indeed, as a structure--the Atlantic Beach Bridge is not at all remarkable.  It opened in 1950; like so much else built at the time, it was built from steel and concrete in thoroughly prosaic forms.  (Did I just sound like some pretentious architecture "critic"?)  And, as one might expect from such a span built on a shipping lane that was once widely-used (and is still used for that purpose), it's a drawbridge.

I have ridden over it any number of times, as have other New York cyclists I know:  If you're going to Long Beach, Lido Beach or Point Lookout, there aren't many other ways to go.  Crossing it is pleasant enough:  There are beaches, boat docks and houses along the Reynolds Channel, which the bridge spans, and the ocean is just a few swim strokes away.  

I had long assumed that the bridge connected Far Rockaway--which, as its name indicates, is the New York City neighborhood farthest from midtown Manhattan--with Atlantic Beach, which is in Nassau County.  However, the line between the city and the county is actually a few feet away from the entrance to the bridge, at the end of Sea Girt Boulevard.  

Why does this matter for cyclists?  Well, on most bridges in New York City that have pedestrian lanes but not dedicated bike lanes, cyclists routinely ride without a thought.   This happens even on those bridges where signs command cyclists to walk their wheels over the span.   There seems to be a kind of understanding, or at least a truce, between cyclists and pedestrians and, it seems to me, confrontations between the two are rare.  At least, I've never seen, or been involved in, one!

On the other hand, Nassau County--or its police, at any rate--doesn't always have such a laissez-faire attitude toward cyclists.  There is a command post right next to the tollbooth (Interestingly, cyclists were charged five cents to cross until 1975, when the bridge's bond was retired.) and, every once in a while, the gendarmes decide to use their powers on cyclists.  Lately, that has been happening with increased frequency.  In fact, about two weeks ago, as I was entering the bridge, another cyclist who was riding in the other direction warned me that officers were handing out tickets on the other side of the bridge.  So I walked, which added about another ten minutes to my trip.

Indeed, I saw two of those officers.  Fortunately, I had walked across.  Today, I was thinking about whether or not to ride across when I saw two middle-aged male cyclists walking their steeds from the middle of the bridge.  When I turned my head, I saw the reason why:  Two officers were standing by a police van just outside the command center.  

Being the upright citizen that I am '-), I walked.  I saw no other cyclists besides those middle-aged men, which surprised me, given that it was neither oppressively warm nor humid, and there was absolutely no threat of rain.  Then again, today is Tuesday, so one wouldn't expect to see as many pedestrians or cyclists as one would see on a weekend day.

Sometimes, when the weather is warm, the bridge's path is thick with pedestrian traffic on weekends, particularly on Saturdays--especially when they come during a Jewish holiday.  There are fair-sized Orthodox communities on both sides of the bridge and, as they're not allowed to drive (or, depending on how their rabbis interpret Halakhik law, ride bicycles), they all walk.  So, to be fair, I can understand more enforcement of the mandate for cyclists to walk their bicycles at such times.  On the other hand, on a day like today, when both pedestrian and cycling traffic are much lighter (I only saw one pedestrian each time I crossed the bridge, and on my way back, I didn't see any other cyclists.), I should think that enforcement would be less of a priority.  After all, even on that relatively narrow walkway, cyclists and pedestrians can easily steer clear of each other.  And, as on the New York City spans, most are respectful and courteous.  

Then again, from what I understand, Nassau County is in far more dire financial straits than the city is in.  Call me a cynic or conspiracy theorist if you like, but I can't help but to think that's a reason why I (and others) have been seeing more constables on the Atlantic Beach Bridge lately.

The Joy Of A Staycation: Biking In The City

I like to take a "big" trip every now and again.  But Memorial Day weekend is one of those times I'd prefer not to.  The weather has been warm and sticky; it rained on and off on Friday and Saturday.  But one of the great things about being in New York on a weekend like this one can be seen here:

This is the view down Washington Street, near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel.  I was on a bike, and I had it all to myself.  


Ironically, the most congested part of Manhattan may well have been the Greenway along the Hudson River, only a block away.  Tourists always flock to the Intrepid, which is about two miles up the Greenway, for this holiday.  And, it seems that everyone who isn't going there renting a bike, or stopping to sprawl themselves across the Greenway to take photos.


Here is another view from Spring Street:

After my ride, I went to the barbeque my fiend Millie has every year.  I more than made up for all of the calories I burned on my ride!

Portraits of New York Cyclists

From Amsterdamize

I've just stumbled across another bike site I like:  #BikeNYC.

It's photographer Dmitry Gudkov's series of portraits and profiles of New Yorkers who ride bicycles to work or simply to get around. 

Included is a portrait of what I'd like to look like, on and with my bike, in my next life.  And there are lots of images of attractive, stylish people who ride. But Gudokov's photos aren't just "fashion shoots" with bikes as props.  His subjects work in diverse fields (lawyers, janitors and everything in between) and live in a variety of neighborhoods throughout the five boroughs.  One of my favorites is a guy named "Jamaica," who lives in the eponymous neighborhood in Queens.  I think I've seen him; I work not very far from where he lives.

I haven't replicated any of Gudkov's phots here; he doesn't allow anyone to copy and paste them.  Given that he is a photographer, I can understand his wish (and, possibly, need) to do so.  So I'll just encourage you to visit his site. While you're there, check out this portrait of Hal, the longtime mechanic of Bicycle Habitat.  He's the one who turned me on to Mercians, and who built the wheels for the ones I ride.

Enforcing The Law Without Knowing It

The New York Police Department (NYPD) is notorious for its capricious enforcement of traffic rules.  What's even worse is that too many officers don't know what the rules are for cyclists.

Evan Neuman found that out the hard way.  He was cycling up Allen Street in Manhattan's Lower East Side when a cop pulled up and ticketed him for not using the bike lane on that street.

Allen Street Bike Lane, New York City

The thing is, he had been riding on the Allen Street bike lane.  He left it to make a turn onto Ludlow Street.  He got his ticket shortly afterward.

New York State law requires that cyclists ride in bike lanes when they're available.  It also stipulates that we can't ride on the left side of the road (against traffic) or more than two abreast.  A number of New York City cyclists have been ticketed for alleged violations of this law. However, these laws (like many State laws) do not apply in New York City.

Instead, the New York City code says the following: Whenever a usable path or lane for bicycles has been provided, bicycle riders shall use such path or lane except under the following conditions:  (i) when preparing for a turn at an intersection or into a private road or driveway, (ii) when reasonably necessary to avoid conditions (including, but not limited to, fixed or moving objects, motor vehicles, bicycles, pedestrians, pushcarts, animals, surface hazards) that make it unsafe to continue within such path or lane.  

My guess is that many police officers--and members of the general public--believe that cyclists must use the lanes, no matter what.  That may well have been the case of the one who ticketed Evan Neuman.  However, given that a fair number of "New York's Finest" patrol on bicycles, I would expect them to be more familiar with the law.  


Neuman has fought the ticket.  So far, he's lost in Traffic Court and a Department of Motor Vehicles appeals board has rejected his appeal.  Now he's filed a motion in State Supreme Court to have the ticket dismissed.

A Czech Guest's Column

In a sort of response to a suggestion Steve A (of DFW Point to Point fame), today I am turning this blog over to a "guest," Milena Svoboda.  She has just recently arrived in New York from Prague, and offers some of her observations about cycling and other things in New York.

I simply cannot comprehend such bright sunshine.  We sometimes have days when there is barely a single cloud in the sky and you can see blue spread out above you, even brighter than the inside of the Hall of Mirrors.  But even with my darkest sunglasses, which I bought just before I left Praha, I still had to ride with my eyes almost closed.

Naturally, the sun can never be as bright in Praha.  We are exactly on the 50th parallel of latitude, as every Czech knows.  On Google, it says that the 50th passes just below Winnipeg, Canada.  For the contrast, New York just north of the 40th, which passes through Minorca, Sardinia and near Ankara.  Justine didn't know that; it is probable that most other people in America don't know that, either.  


Now I understand why Justine got so lost in Praha.  When all of your streets are straight lines, like they are in this city, it's so much easier to find out where you have to go.  Back home, the streets wind round castles and churches; Justine says that when they build a new road here, they knock down people's houses.  

How many Americans pedal on streets like this?  That is the reason why they and Justine are always getting lost.  No wonder they had the need to invent the GPS!  Justine says that is the logical result of being in a country that was "discovered" by someone who got lost.


Anyway (Since I meet Justine, I begin many of my sentences with that word .) I felt like I was riding on a magic carpet.  Where did they find all of this asphalt?  Justine let me borrow the bike she just bought.  It rides so fast and so smooth.  It would much like to ride it in Praha:

It's a pretty bike.  All of Justine's bikes are pretty.  Everyone on this blog says so, too.  I felt like I was floating above the castle when we rode along the river.


After seeing the river and the Hudson, I understand why American streets are so wide and straight.  When I saw Justine, I knew she is from Angliecky or Americky because she carried a book called "Lonely Planet."  In that book, it says that the Vlatva River winds through the heart of Praha like a question mark.  I like that; it makes me realize that the Hudson and East Rivers rush, straight as these streets, through New York like two exclamation marks!

Soon I must return to Praha.  I hope to return to New York some time soon; I was just starting to learn how to ride here.  Justine said she was just starting to understand how to ride in Praha before she had to go home, too.  She wants to come back; I hope she does.