To The Airport

Today I rode Tosca to the airport.

No, I didn’t embark upon some exotic adventure.  I did nothing more, or less:  I rode to the airport.

 

 

Now, you might be wondering what kind of airport this is, or whether I’ve truly gone mad.  (A few people I know would argue that I can’t “go mad” because you can’t go to someplace where you already are.)  But, I assure you, I rode to an airport.

Unless you’re a fan of dirigibles, have flown private aircraft or know more about the history of aviation than anyone should (or you’re of a certain age), you’ve probably never heard of it.  Now I’ll assure you of something else: It’s just like most other airports in that it’s not located in the place for which it’s named.  Well, not exactly, anyway,

 

Flushing Airport is actually in a Queens neighborhood called College Point—which only briefly had an institution of post-secondary education anywhere within its environs.  The terminal opened in 1927 and, for the first decade of its existence, was the busiest airport in the New York Metropolitan Area.  Believe it or not, it actually had more competition than any area air terminal now has.

 

What most people don’t know is that Newark Airport opened only a year later than Flushing, and LaGuardia a decade after that.  (John F. Kennedy International Airport opened a decade after LaGuardia, under the name of Idlewild.)  And, around the same time that the first aircraft alighted from, and landed in, Flushing, Floyd Bennett Field and a few smaller air terminals opened. 

Like Flushing, most of those early airports are gone.  Floyd Bennett Field became the first Naval Air Station in the United States and, later,  part of the Gateway National Recreation Area and hosts a few bike races, rallies and rides for charity.  Others, like Flushing, are all but forgotten. 

After the first flights departed from, and arrived in, LaGuardia, Flushing served as a staging area for military flights.  After World War II, it served private aircraft as well as skywriters and blimps.

The airport was, unfortunately, the site of several accidents during the 1970’s, including one that killed the pilot and two passengers of a small private plane.  After those accidents, the Federal Aviation Administration determined that Flushing Airport was directly in the flight paths of LaGuardia, JFK and other airports.  (The government needed a study to learn that?)  Finally, in 1984, Flushing Airport was closed.  Even so, it still is listed on the registry of air terminals under the code FLU. 

Since its closure, Flushing Airport has reverted to the marshland it was.  (A creek bisects it.)  The main access road has been blocked off.

 

However, the parking lot is still in use, mainly by contractors. 

 

 

 

 

If nothing else, pedaling by the airport gave me one of the more interesting morning rides I’ve had.  In another irony, Flushing is less than two miles from LaGuardia “as the crow flies”.  Still, it takes about half an hour to drive—or pedal—from one to the other because the irregular shape of the Long Island Sound coastline renders a direct route impossible. 

 

 

 

Driving and pedaling between the two airports takes about the same amount of time because motor vehicles are relegated to the expressways, while cyclists can take a route that, as it turns out, is more direct, via side streets and the World’s Fair Marina promenade. 

How Real New York Cyclists Cross The East River

When you live in any place--especially a major city--for any period of time, you realize that there are certain "things only tourists do".

For example, Parisians don't visit the Eiffel Tower or go to le Boulevard des Champs-Elysees unless they absolutely must.  And, no Parisian--unless he or she is a student or oherwise on a really tight budget--eats in the cubbyhole restaurants and frites stands along la rue de la Huchette, known locally as Allee des Bacteries.

(OK, so I went up the Eiffel Tower once.  But I was new to town at the time!)

Likewise, New Yorkers don't go to the Statue of Liberty or Radio City Music Hall.  We also don't go to the Empire State Building unless we work there.  (The same held true for the World Trade Center.)

What don't New York cyclists do?  Well, the first thing that comes to my mind is this:

From nycentralparktours

These days,  no Big Apple bike rider pedals across the Brooklyn Bridge unless he or she is part of an organized ride-or under extreme duress.

Of course, at one time there was almost no other practical way for a cyclist to cross between Brooklyn and Manhattan.  For many years, the bike/pedestrian lanes of the Manhattan Bridge were closed.  (Recently, the north walkway reopened, making the Manhattan the only New York City crossing with more than one usable bike lane. )  And, if you entered the Williamsburg Bridge, you really had to wonder whether you and your bike would both make it to the other side:  If the condition of the walkway didn't shake you or your bike apart, you and your bike might be parted from each other en route by someone who, shall we say, knew that you were riding a good bike but had absolutely no intention of riding it himself. (Yes, the thugs were all male in those days

But now, the condition of the Williamsburg has greatly improved and, while we might bemoan the proliferation of hipsters in the neighborhoods on either side of the bridge, you have to say at least this much for them:  They're not going to mug you for your bike.  And the north lane of the Manhattan Bridge offers easy access to one bike lane that actually makes sense: the one that separates cyclists from the traffic entering and exiting the bridge and expressways at Sands Street in Brooklyn.

Plus, there are now daytime ferries between Brooklyn and Manhattan.  I've seen people ride their bikes to the boats in Williamsburg and Grand Army Terminal and disembark at Wall Street.

So now New York cyclists don't use the Brooklyn Bridge, not to show how sophisticated they are, but because, at times, it seems as if all of humanity is walking across it.  And, of course, they're not watching for cyclists:  They're craning their necks, taking photos, embracing, eating, drinking or doing almost anything else you can imagine.  And stateboarders are weaving among them. 

So, it's much easier to ride over the Queensborough (what I usually take, as I live near it), Williamsburgh or Manhattan Bridges to Manhattan.  Besides, if you want a view of the Brooklyn Bridge (and the lower New York harbor), your best bet is the south walkway/bike path of the Manhattan.

 

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.  

We Can Get There; Now We Need To Cross

Sometimes I'm thankful for small things.

No, this post won't be about cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels, although those things are quite nice.  Instead, I'm going to show you something that, I hope, will make one of my rides a bit safer and more pleasant.

I frequently cycle the promenade by the World's Fair Marina, which rims Flushing Bay to the north and east of LaGuardia Airport for about a mile and a quarter.  Until recently, the lane ended rather abruptly at an especially apocalyptic-looking yard that seemed to serve mainly as a parking lot for New York City Department of Transportation trucks.  There, the lane turned into a dirt path that looked--and, when you rode on it, felt--like the Ho Chi Minh trail if it had been on the moon. That is, if you were lucky.  If you weren't, you had to dodge whatever parts the trucks dropped or a hose some cement-mixing company left behind.

Well, the dirt path has been cleaned up, and a concrete sidewalk built on it.  That has improved access to the Northern Boulevard Bridge, which you must cross if you want to continue into Eastern Queens.  But, as nice as the sidewalk/lane extension is, it still has one problem:  It leaves you at an entrance ramp for the Grand Central Parkway.  

Sometimes there isn't much traffic, but at other times, especially on game days (It's near Citi Field), it can be all but impossible to cross.   The worst part, though, is that the point at which you cross is at the end of a curve in the ramp.  So, while you may  not see any cars or trucks coming, they could come zooming from the other side of the turn.

I don't know whether the Department of Transportation plans to install signs or a signal at the crossing--or, for that matter, how much good such things would actually do.  From what I've seen, not many cyclists or pedestrians have been using the bridge.  However, I can't help but to think that it has had to do with the perilous crossing, the until-now-poor condition of the access lane and the narrowness of the bike/pedestrian lane on the bridge.  

Well, at least one part of the trip has improved.  Perhaps there is hope for the rest.