Has anybody out there ridden a high-wheeler (or, as they were called in England, "penny-farthing")? Every once in a while, I think I'd like to ride one.
Of course, there's one logistical problem: finding such a bike. And then I'd have to get a pair of bloomers. I suppose I could ride in a short skirt, but somehow that wouldn't be in the spirit of riding a bike like the one in the photo.
There are cyclists who ride on New Year's Day and don't mount their bikes again until the Spring. I once rode with some of them. We began at six in the morning and were done by noon or thereabouts.
I guess I don't have to mention that I was unattached and didn't drink the previous night. However, I did stay up to watch the ball drop on Times Square. I don't know when I went to bed, but I know I didn't get more than a couple of hours of sleep. Still, somehow I managed to do a century (in miles, not a metric century), which included a few short but fairly steep climbs, to Bear Mountain and back.
The funny thing is that all of us who did that ride were in really good condition, and most of us were young and male, yet it didn't have quite the same competitive spirit one finds on rides like it. n fact, it had less egotism among the riders than almost any ride I did with male riders before my transition. I guess we gave each other "props" simply for being there, even though we knew that some of us wouldn't see each other again for at least another two months.
My ride today was nothing like that. For one thing, I woke up later and ate something like a real breakfast. And I made and received a few "Happy New Year" phone calls, which I avoided on the morning of my long-ago ride. And, well, I'm not in the kind of shape I was in back then. However, it was a clear, mild day, and there was--unsurprisingly--little traffic anywhere.
Plus, I stopped to check out a few things along the way.
This house is about a mile from my apartment. I saw two a man, a couple and a woman walk by with their kids. None wanted to leave. I didn't, either: How often does one see a miniature village, Santa's workshop and a toy store all in one. I can't hope to portray the attention the owners of this house paid to detail, but I will show you some of the more enchanting parts of their display:
This is the part right above where I propped Tosca. She couldn't take her eyes off this place, for reasons visible in the next photo:
While there was no haze in this part of the display, another part had its own misty marvel:
Now, if your idea of a great view doesn't run to castles, you might like what I saw when I left and crossed the RFK Bridge:
The blue domes adorn a Greek Orthodox temple. Seeing them in that landscape of residential houses reminds me, somewhat, of a particular view from the hill of le Sacre Coeur de Montmartre in Paris. Looking down from that hill, you see block after block of fin de siecle and Beaux Arts townhouses and apartment houses, nearly all of which stand three to six stories high. That vista is interrupted by the glass and steel planes and chutes of le Centre Pompidou.
After crossing the bridge, I came face-to-face with a very inquisitive mind:
I heard him meow as I rode by. His eyes pleaded with me to stop. As soon as I got off my bike, he darted to my ankles and rubbed himself around my legs. I hope that he belongs to someone in one of the nearby houses; he simply does not belong on the street. I actually picked him up and he curled around my shoulder for a moment before deciding he wanted to follow the laws of gravity.
Isn't it interesting that dogs sometimes chase cyclists, but cats can be fascinated with bicycles? In a perfect world, they could accompany us on our rides--whether to begin the new year, or to continue a journey.
Steve of DFW Point-to-Point has a point: Salt air really is rough on bicycle parts. I should have taken a photo of the bike I rode when I was in Florida. Every time I see it, the spokes and other parts are more corroded than they were the previous time I rode. It seems the spokes get the worst corrosion. At least, that seems to be the case for the non-plated, non-stainless spokes found on cheap bikes like the one I rode.
Whenever I'm in Florida, I see lots of bikes that have so much rust that it's a wonder they still run. Even the more inland areas are affected by salt air, and there are many bikes that spend years or even decades in garages or on porches after their owners stop riding them.
I must say that just about everyone who looked like he or she was riding long miles or doing any kind of training was astride an aluminum or carbon bike. Those riders are young and tend to be more swayed by trends, but I suspect their choice of ride might be influnced by the salt air and humid conditions. A mechanic with whom I worked spent a few years in Florida, where he worked in two bike shops. He told me that he often saw parts rusted clear through, and hubs that rotted on the inside because of the humidity and salt air.
Well, this year is old, too, although it's not rusty. So, as this will probably be my last post of 2011, I want to wish you a Happy New Year and lots of safe, enjoyable and fulfilling rides!
