Why do I take the same rides again and again?
Sometimes I just want to ride on "autopilot": I don't want to think about navigating. Or, conversely, I might want to lose myself in the rhythm of pedaling and navigating, especially if I'm weaving through traffic.
But, oddly enough, sometimes I'll ride a route I've pedaled dozens or even hundreds of times before because I somehow know that within the familiarity, I'll see something new: a turn might reveal a new view of something I've seen for years.
That is what happened the other day, late in the afternoon. I took Tosca, my Mercian fixie, for a spin along the Flushing Bay Promenade, which starts by LaGuardia Airport and passes the World's Fair Marina and Citi Field on its way to Flushing.
On my way back, I saw a Midtown Manhattan sunset through a scrim of winter branches:
A second or two, a few pedal strokes and a left turn later, the curtain lifted, so to speak:
There is always a show, a spectacle, even on the most quotidian ride. Maybe that's what's kept me on my bike for all of these years!
