It's been raining on and off today. Meteorologists forecast more of the same for the next three days or so.
My grandmother used to joke about "walking between the raindrops." Has anyone ever cycled between raindrops? I've ridden between bouts of rain. In fact, that's what I did today.
Whenever I've gone on a multi-day ride, I've brought rain gear with me. Sometimes I'll bring it on a day ride. But today I didn't bring any with me.
Do you usually bring rain gear if you think there's a chance of getting wet? Do you take your chances? Or do you not ride in the rain at all?
Whether or not you ride in the rain, you've got to admire this cyclist's sense of style:
How do you know you're in Hipster Hook?
Well, first of all, I should tell you where and what Hipster Hook are.
Roughly, HH rims the East River in Brooklyn and Queens from the Williamsburgh Bridge to the Queensborough (a.k.a. 59th Street) Bridge. From the river, it stretches a few blocks inland, to about Driggs Avenue in Brooklyn and 11th Street in Queens. Hipster Hook includes parts of the Brooklyn neighborhoods of Williamsburgh and Greenpoint, and the Queens Community of Long Island City.
All right. You don't always have your map or GPS handy. So, how else can you tell you're in the Hook?
Well, just take a look at the bikes parked locked to the sign posts, parking meters or other immobile objects:
I mean, where else are you going to find a '70's Bob Jackson, with a full set of Campagnolo Nuovo Record Components, converted to flat-bar use and locked up next to two other bikes?
If you've been following this blog, you have probably realized that I favor purple and deep green (especially British Racing Green), cobalt blue or burgundy bikes. But I also have a soft spot for orange bikes of that time. (I include Marianela, the Schwinn Le Tour I used to ride.) Somehow, the orange bikes made since then just don't have the same kind of character: Instead of glowing, they shout.
Anyway, I think that bike also has the only thing that, to me, could have made it even prettier: a somewhat-aged Brooks B-17 saddle in honey.
I wish I could have gotten a full solo shot of the bike. Oh well. At least one of the bikes locked next to it was a Masi from the same era. Today, bikes bearing the Masi name are being made in Taiwan and seem to be, at best, parodies of the real thing.
And how else do you know you're in Hipster Hook? Well, the bike locked next to the Bob Jackson and Masi was a current KHS bike. Not bad, really: I once had a KHS myself. But you simply can't compare it to those other two bikes!
Today I was asked to go to a function where I really didn't have to be. I never exactly said "no," but I didn't commit to it, either. So, if anyone notices I wasn't there (There's a good chance nobody will!), I can say that "something came up."
Which it did. That "something", of course, is a ride. When I left my apartment just after noon with Arielle, scarcely a cloud besmudged the blue, sunny sky. A strong breeze bent tree limbs and flickered leaves. But the weather was just warm enough that the breeze invigorated me.
Given that it was such a lovely day, I figured I could ride to Point Lookout and be home around the time of the end-of-day traffic filled the roads. It was a good plan, but not necessarily for the reasons I planned.
We all know that when you pedal into a breeze, it turns into a wind. And when you pedal into a wind, it turns into a gale. Someone told me that once. That person, once again, was right. But I didn't care: I just wanted to ride.
Then, as I pushed through Howard Beach and along the roads and bridges to the Rockaways, clouds gathered. By the time I got to the Rockaway Beach boardwalk, the skies were overcast. Even though they grew grayer and more opaque, they never really darkened. So, I knew there was no real threat of rain.
But by the time I got to Point Lookout, I felt I was looking at what Andrew Wyeth might have painted had he lived in a coastal town:
Still, the ride was more than pleasant and, surprisingly, didn't take much longer than it normally did. I also wasn't tired.
The upside to pedaling in the wind, of course, is that when you turn around, it's at your back. Arielle really lived up to her name: I felt like I was floating over the roads through Lido Beach, Long Beach and Atlantic Beach, and over the bridge to Far Rockaway. Even when riding the boardwalk, I felt like I was on a magic carpet powered by Eddie Mercx, Jeanne Longo and a Russian sprinter or two.
Things probably never would have gone so smoothly had I attended that function I really didn't have to attend!
