A Spring Afternoon With Tosca And Jenny

 It was a perfect Spring afternoon: The breeze made me feel even lighter than the air around the sun-flecked leaves and flowers.

On such an afternoon, I feel as if I could ride forever. This afternoon, I felt as if I would ride forever, that I would continue yesterday’s ride—to Connecticut—and the ones I’ve taken along boulevards, through forests and among chateaux.

I didn’t wind my way along the Loire to Amboise. But I did ride to a castle, of sorts.

Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, was begging for me to take her picture. Of course:  Who or what wouldn’t look good in the light of our ride? I think she—and I—were both feeling good after I finally gave her a long-needed Spring tuneup.

We stopped at the garden in front of St. Raymond’s Church where, I’m told, a certain family with a daughter named Jennifer attended mass every Sunday.

She also attended a nearby Catholic school, since closed, before anyone outside the neighborhood knew about her.

Yes, I’m talking about J-Lo. I hear she and Ben are breaking up again. Still, things must be easier for her than they are for someone else who grew up a neighborhood over (to which  I also rode today). I mean, imagine being Sonia Sotomayor and having to look at Sam, Clarence after they destroyed the very thing that made her and other women’s lives possible, even if they never had to avail themselves to what it allows.  I’m no legal scholar, but I can’t help but to think that the “juice” for Title IX, passed in 1972, was supplied a few months later when a very different Supreme Court decided on Roe v. Wade.

Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about that as I rode. If anything, I was simply reveling in having a couple of hours to ride in what are probably the best conditions we experience in this part of the world—and exploring what is, for now, my part of it.

A Ride Into Living Color

In at least two ways, my Saturday ride to Connecticut and back was perfect.

For one, I pedaled into the wind just about all the way there.  By the time I got to the Greenwich Common, I was feeling its effects--and the sun on my face.  I'd worn sunscreen but I think I absorbed more rays than I'd taken in months.  (If nothing else, I got a healthy dose of Vitamin D.)  So, the packet of Kar's Sweet 'n' Salty mix I'd stashed in my seat bag was especially tasty and felt like a "superfood" for the rest of my ride.

I say the wind was part of a "perfect" ride because it was at my back for most of the way back!

But another thing that made my ride, which I've done many times, so nice was that the wind seemed to have blown the clouds away.  So, the bright sun made the air more brisk and the colors more vibrant.

I reminded myself that those flowers were planted in memory of war veterans.  Of course, there is no justice in dying in combat, whether or not in a "just" cause:  The combatants, most of them very young, did not have the opportunity to do most of the things most of us take for granted as normal parts of our lives.  But at least there is beauty, in living color, in their honor.  

Yesterday the Five Boro Bike Tour rolled through this city, passing just a couple of blocks of my apartment.  Two of my neighbors expressed consternation that I wasn't part of it.  I explained that I participated, probably, about twenty editions of it, including two as a marshal but the event has grown too big and commercial. ($100 to register? Yes, the swag and catered gourmet snacks are nice, but that's not why I go on a ride!) Besides, my ride to Connecticut and back is about twice as long as the 5BBT.  But just hearing "I rode to Connecticut" surprised them even more than my absence from one of the world's largest cycling throngs.

Oh, Deer--In The Bronx!

Yesterday, I took another ride to Connecticut.  The day could hardly have been better:  neither the warmth nor sunlight were oppressive, and only a few high, wispy clouds floated across the sky.  I pedaled into a fairly brisk wind most of the way up--which meant, of course, it blew me back to Astoria.

And nearly into the path of a deer.  I was gliding through a turn on the Pelham Bay Park path, just before it crosses an entrance to the New England Thruway.  Trees cover one side of the path and line the other; just beyond that line is a marsh, with the hulking structures of Co-op City in sight.

I missed that deer by about five meters or so.  But I think I was more surprised than startled:  After all, I was in The Bronx.  Yes, you read that right.  It's one thing to see Bambi's wild cousin dart in front of you when you're barreling down a road in rural Pennsylvania, or a mountain goat bolt across the road you're thumping along with a flat tire at 90 KPH in the Alps.  You can talk about such things and, whatever judgments people are making, they believe you.

But a deer in the Bronx?  I'm still having trouble believing it--even though I saw it.  If only I could have taken a photo!

School's Out!

Yesterday I wrote about devices to which I am not yet accustomed.  I'm learning them, but I think I'll master Sanskrit, if I start learning it on my next round-number birthday, sooner and better than I'll master the iPhone or iPad.

I also wrote about something to which I was accustomed practically from the moment I touched it:  Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special.  She's a birthday gift to myself and, after my initial ride, I was going to "save" her until the day came.  So much for my self-discipline.

Everything was right yesterday:  Small puffs drifted across a blue sky, the air was warm but not oppressively so, and a brisk wind blew into my face during most of the outbound part of my ride.  That meant, of course, that the wind pushed at my back on my way home.

And, of course, Dee-Lilah.

Well, almost everything was right.  When I got to Point Lookout, the Point itself was closed.  There were trucks and earthmovers and other kinds of machinery from some agency.  The folks in them didn't want to talk and one of them glowered at me when I aimed my phone to take a photo.  I just hope they're rebuilding the shoreline, which has been damaged by storms wrought by climate change our, ahem, political leaders deny.  At least, I hope they're not readying the spot for some developer who wants to build condos or something.

The other part of my ride that could've been better was the traffic:  I saw lots more of it almost everywhere.  Worst of all, drivers were weaving--well over the speed limit, no less--with no apparent regard for anyone else.  The ones who weren't driving that way seemed to be working as Uber drivers, picking up people--kids, mainly--in seemingly random places.

Then I remembered why:  Yesterday was the last day of the academic term for New York school kids.  I could understand the kids being a little crazy.  But the adults?

Oh well.  At least school was out for me, too, and I had a great ride nonetheless. 

N.B.:  The bag on the front is from--you guessed it--RuthWorks SF.

A Carpet Under Me, A Canopy Above Me

Sometimes everything is just right...

I love the sun, but the best riding conditions for melanin-deficient folks like me are the ones I had on Friday, when I pedaled to Point Lookout.  It's what one often experiences in coastal areas:  thick, heavy, puffy clouds that cast shadows across the sky but pose no threat of rain.  They even break, now and again, for rays of sunlight--or just to give a peek at opaque blue windows.

The temperature held steady at around 21C (70F), with just enough wind to feel at my back on the way out and in my face on the way back.  I would have preferred that the wind was blowing the other way, but it didn't do much to slow or tire me on my way back.   I feel I could pedal all day, every day, in such conditions.

Of course, it helped that I was astride Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special.  She's like a magic carpet:  so quick and so comfortable.  I also don't mind that guys on carbon and titanium bikes were complimenting her!

I really was lucky.  I mean, having such a great bike and conditions at the same time:  Who could ask for more?

What Is The Tide Bringing In Now?

The new semester begins today.

So what did I do yesterday?  I went for a ride, of course!

An agreeably cool morning turned into an agreeably warm afternoon, both full of sunshine.  And I had the wind at my back on my way home.

The tide was out at Point Lookout.  I was tempted to ride onto the sandbar.  I think Tosca, my Mercian fixie, would have been game.  But I didn't want to chance the tide coming back in.

I had a good time.  I'm sure everybody did!

Today I'm teaching some basic freshman English classes.  Tomorrow, though, I get to teach something that even a few weeks ago--let alone when I was living as a guy named Nick--I never imagined I would teach.

Women's studies.  Can you believe it?  I didn't ask for it:  I was asked.  

Is there some other kind of tide coming in?

She's Gone To A Farm, And We've Gone To Connecticut

In response to yesterday's "postcard" from Helene, "MT Cyclist" asked whether I've told my other bikes that Helene is now on a farm.

Actually, I've told all of my bikes except Vera, who has been in transit and arrived at the Mercian workshop today.  I sense she might be a bit stressed from the trip.  In addition, she's going to undergo a bit of surgery in addition to her facelift, so I don't want to burden her any further.

Of my other bikes, Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, seems rather nonplussed.  But I sense Arielle, my Mercian Audax, and the Trek I've been working on for the past few months (and have yet to name) are a bit more envious.  After all, they're made for longer rides and like the outdoors.  Moreover, I am trying to reassure Arielle that I will continue to ride her once I receieve the Vincitore Special I've ordered.

Today was the perfect opportunity for the latter.  It was warm, but not unusually so for this time of year.  And the humidity nothing like what I sweltered in as I rode the other day.  Plus, the clouds that muted this morning's sunshine broke up as I rode north and east from my apartment to...you guessed it...Connecticut.

Although I had the wind at my back most of the way up, pedaling against it on my way back wasn't noticeably more difficult, at least until I reached East Tremont Avenue in the Bronx, about ten kilometers from my apartment.  I found that odd because the Bronx becomes more densely built, more like Manhattan, from that point southward.  

Still, I wasn't feeling tired, even though I pedaled the entire ride on my larger chainring and shifted into lower gears than the ones in the middle of my cassette only when I pedaled up the ridge into Connecticut from New York State.

After a ride like the one I took today, there will certainly be more for Arielle--and the other bikes I have and the ones that I will have.  And, I'm sure there will be some great rides for Helene--yes, from the farm.

The World Won't End--Yet. I Just Hope This Journey Doesn't.

The tides rolled in, higher and higher on the rocks--closer and closer to me and Arielle, who took me to Point Lookout on one of the loveliest afternoons we've had this year.  

She was up for it, wind and all.  We rode into the wind all the way out, literally.  It blew from just the right spot on the compass--somewhere between East-Southeast, South-Southeast and East-East South, I think.  Whatever it was, it blew us all the way back to my place.

While she was soaking up the sun and wind--and I was getting burned by them, in spite of my third application of sunscreen to my arms, face and the back of my neck--I paid a visit to another old friend:

The Point Lookout Orca is a myth  of my own creation.  Which is to say, of course, that it's a rumor that, to my knowledge, has gone no further than this blog.  I had to assure him, Arielle and myself that whatever the tide was bringing in was no more dangerous--at least, not yet--than anything that might result when two thin-skinned, impulsive guys lead their countries.  One of them has a Twitter account.  The other has, according to scientists, an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM).

I fully expect the guy with the Twitter account to use it to exclaim that he has a bigger, stronger missile.  But, because he needs the support of religious conservatives to undo everything Obama did, he can't let his warhead show.  At least, not too much.

That was not a dirty joke.  At least, I hope it isn't.  If it is, then I've just dirty-bombed.

Anyway, it might seem frivolous to some that I am off riding my bike when we might be in the most serious situation this country has seen since the Cuban Missile Crisis.  But,really, what else is there to do--besides peace, whether it's in one's own life or with others.  And, yes, I've been doing as much of the latter as I can.  The rides I take alone, like this one, enable me to do so as much as the rides I do with others--and the marches and everything else in which I participate.

A Currency Of Pleasure

Now tell me:  Is there a surer sign of an early summer day than this?

It was a little cooler than normal (high temperature of 27C, or 80F) but I didn't mind.  From that tree, you might know where I rode:  Connecticut.  

(I have to admit, I couldn't help but to think of the quarter coin dedicated to the Nutmeg State--one of the prettiest pieces of currency ever issued.)

Anyway, the sky was as bright and blue as my cell-phone photos make it seem.  I rode into a fairly stiff wind on the way up, which meant, of course, that I had it at my back on my way home.

I couldn't have asked for anything better. Nor could Arielle, my Mercian Audax.  

Following Bliss At The Beginning Of Fall (Apologies to Joseph Campbell)

Fall began the other day, though you wouldn't have known it from the weather.  Today was more like it:  cool and breezy, with bright sunshine showing, like the leaves, just the slightest hints of change in hue.

This also means the days are growing shorter.  So, if you want to ride the same number of miles or kilometers you were riding a few weeks earlier--in daylight--you have to leave earlier in the morning.  Or ride faster.

Today I woke up later than I anticipated.  Still, I decided to sit and enjoy a breakfast you won't find at very many training tables.  I blame the nice, warm baguettes I encountered in the bakery two blocks from my apartment.  (Well, now you know one reason why I'm not as skinny as I was!)  And I just happened to have a nice, ripe slice of Brie in my refrigerator. I took it out before I set out for the bakery.  When I got back, it hadn't started to run, but oozed flavor nonetheless.

Perhaps incongruously, I washed everything down with green tea.  I find, increasingly, that it's what I prefer to drink before a ride, especially since I've started to keep un-bagged tea (from Japan, no less) and an infuser in my apartment.  I'm going to keep those things in my office, too!

(Of course, while in Paris, I drank coffee before rides.  Why wouldn't I?  Who goes there to drink tea?)

Yesterday the weather forecasters told us that last night we would have rain and wind, which would bring in the weather we had today--which began with a heavy cloud cover that broke up through the morning.  Hearing that prediction, I planned on taking a ride to Connecticut.  But I wondered how realistic that plan would be, at least if I wanted to get home in daylight.  After all, it was nearly noon when I got on my bike.

And I started my ride in the teeth of a 30KPH wind. I realized that, if I wanted to return home in daylight, I had three choices:  push myself, ride to Connecticut and, if need be, take the train home from there or some other point on the way back, or just ride as far as I could in a couple of hours and turn back, whether or not I reached Greenwich.

Just about all the way up, I was pedaling into that wind.  But the ride wasn't as strenuous as I expected.  Perhaps it had something to do with the weather:  temperatures of 12 to 17 C (55 to 64 F) with muted but gradually brightening sunshine.  Also, I was riding Arielle, my Mercian Audax, which always seems to make me faster,  without trying.  And, hey, I was just feeling so, so good simply to be out riding!

Even though I took the long route up--which also happens to be the route with more hills--I got to Greenwich more quickly than I expected:  about two hours and forty-five minutes.  That meant about three and a half hours to sunset.  And I would have the wind at my back!

Mind you, I wasn't trying to better a personal record (I didn't) or prove anything to myself.  I simply felt so good today that I couldn't help but to have a great ride.  And, of course, Arielle gives such a smooth ride that I can keep on pedaling without pain, without strain and still get a good workout.

Oh...When I got home, I still had a bit more than half an hour to spare before the sun would begin to set, having pedaled 140 kilometers--and lounged for about half an hour in the public garden by Greenwich Hospital.  Most important, though, I felt so, so good! 

Past The Max

Today I rode to test a new electronic device and, well, ride.  It was a perfect day for both.

But I had to test the electronic device before I could out of the house, let alone get on my bike.  To be fair, Max has never given me as hard a time as former partners, roommates and others (including an ex-spouse) have about going out without them.


He didn't say "Vous ne passerez pas!" mainly because he doesn't speak French (though he understands some).  But he insisted that my first photo on my new camera would be a portrait of him.

Anyway... Today was another near-perfect day for a ride. The temperature reached 30C (86F), but it dropped as I neared the water.  The humidity was low and the clouds were high and sparse.

Actually, I didn't take a direct path to the water:  I wandered through various parts of Queens and Nassau County before heading toward the southern bays of Long Island.

For a moment, I wondered whether those folks might be in trouble.  I couldn't see what, if anything, was propelling their watercraft.  (I'm not sure of whether to call it a boat or something else.)  From my admittedly limited perspective, they didn't seem to be in any distress.   

One thing about the ocean: It's pretty easy to tell whether the tide is in or out, and its clock, if you will, is fairly predictable.  On the other hand, the bays and inlets from East Rockaway to Freeport can ebb or swell in an instant, and the tides and currents seem to have even more random effects than those of the ocean.  You can see the results of what I'm talking about in the waterfront residential areas:  One home seems to have been untouched by Superstorm Sandy or any other natural phenomenon, while a house next to it looks, nearly three years after the storm, as if it's being held up by the boards nailed over its windows and doorways.

On this day, however, almost nothing besides those houses even hinted at one of the worst natural disasters this area has experienced in its recorded history.  Looking at the sky and the sunlight, such a catastrophe doesn't even seem possible, let alone probable.

Vera knows all about those things, but she rode like a magic carpet.  She almost always does.

P.S.:  I bought the camera because of something I'm going to talk about a couple of posts from now.

 

During A Perfect Ride, I Drank More Than Usual

This morning, the weather forecasters said it would be a “perfect” beach day.  And it was:  The temperature reached 31C (88F) and there was scarcely a cloud in the sky.  The latter meant that humidity was low.

So, of course, I decided I didn’t want to ride to the beach.  I figured at least half of the world would be doing that, which meant that traffic along streets that lead to Coney Island, Rockaway or Jones Beaches, or just about any along the Jersey shore, would resemble downtown Manhattan on a business day.  I actually don’t mind riding in traffic—most of the time.  Today didn’t fit “most”.

I decided, therefore, to head north—to Westchester County and Connecticut.  That turned out to be a good decision:  the ride was delightful, even though—or, perhaps, because—I decided to try new routes in northeastern Bronx and in the part of Westchester County between Rye and the state line.  In each of those areas, I managed to ride in a complete circle (or square or oval—I’m not sure of which) that added distance to my ride.  That also wasn’t a bad thing:  I didn’t have a deadline and, because it’s early summer, lots of daylight to work with. 

Not that I was worried about getting back before dark:  I could have ridden even more than I did and made it home in time to light shabbos candles (not that I would have done such a thing).  I also could have spent even more time than I did at my “turnaround” point.  The only reason I didn’t is that, ironically, I encountered as much traffic as I’d anticipated in the beach areas as I crossed from the Empire State into the Nutmeg State.

The reason soon became clear:  Greenwich was having street fairs on, it seemed, all of its commercial thoroughfares.  What that meant is that people drove into the town—in particular, the strip with designer boutiques—to shop.  I actually had to walk my bike for a couple of blocks, as cycling even the sidewalks (which is probably illegal), let alone the streets, was all but impossible.  To their credit, many people actually stepped aside as I approached, even though I was ready to maneuver around them.

(I guess they still teach good manners in Swiss boarding schools!)

Anyway, having to walk those couple of blocks didn’t take any pleasure out of the ride.  I don’t think anything could have, really.  The weather was great, I was feeling good and Arielle, my Mercian Audax, performed flawlessly.

One thing I did notice, though, is that I drank quite a bit more than I normally do.  Other people with whom I ride have called me a “camel”, as I can pedal a good while before I reach for my water bottle.  But on today’s ride, I managed to consume two water bottles.  In addition, I stopped for an iced tea (at a service-station vending machine about halfway home) and a small Dunkin’ Donuts Coolata (mango-passion fruit)in Connecticut.  I think my consumption had to do with the low humidity and constant sun.  Plus, I added cheese—something I don’t normally consume before or during a ride—to the eggless Eggs Benedict I made myself for breakfast.  It was good cheese, but I think dairy products of any kind before and during a ride make me thirsty.

Even my thirst, though, didn’t detract from my ride.  I don’t think anything could have.

(In case you want to know about my eggless Eggs Benedict:  I chopped a garlic clove, a mushroom, a couple of sundried tomatoes and some kale and sautéed them.  Then I put them—and the cheese (Cabot’sVermont Sharp) on top of a Vermont Bread whole wheat English muffin.  Yummy, if I do say so myself!)