Into The Sleepy Hollow Sunset

Last week, I said this year's foliage seemed less colorful than that of previous years.   Well, it seems that I picked the wrong week to complain.  I saw some more color during a ride I took--to Connecticut--on Thursday, and even more about 50 kilometers north of the city.

Bill and I rode along the South County Trail, which begins in Van Cortlandt Park, near the Bronx-Westchester border, and continues parallel to the Hudson River.  Parts of it follow the Saw Mill River.  In some places, it looks more like a drainage canal than a river; in other spots, it's a turbid pool.  But, believe it or not, there are rapids and falls--and, even better, scenes like thesw.

Most of the trail is paved or hard-packed dirt.  But the part in Van Cortlandt seems to have been mud since the beginning of time.  There was a time when I would have said that getting myself muddied up, or sweaty, made me "deserving" of the beauty I saw around me.  But, the other day, the mud was simply another part of the picture, if you will.

Because of the marathon, we started later than we'd planned:  So many streets were closed that we had trouble navigating our way to our meeting point.  The part of Queens where I live was effectively cut off from Brooklyn, and the bridges and streets where people were allowed to circulate freely were full.  

Not only did we start late, we had less daylight to work with because Daylight Savings Time ended.  The day ended early, but at least, in Sleepy Hollow (a.k.a. Tarrytown), we saw this:

When The Princess Becomes A Washerwoman

When I was a literature student, I learned about something called the "closet drama".

Now, dear reader, could you forgive me for believing, at first, that it was a play written by someone who hadn't admitted his or her "love that dare not speak its name."  Of course, I was in a closet myself--one from which I wouldn't emerge for a few more decades--and doing everything I could to convince myself that it was really my home.

Anyway, a "closet drama" is something its writer does not intend for performance.  Perhaps it seems silly to write a play that you don't want produced--why not write a novel instead?, you might ask.  Well, as I understand it, the play allows for certain kinds of plot and character development that are difficult, if not impossible, in other genres of writing.  I say "as I understand it" because I've never tried to write a play.

I would later learn about architects' "closet plans".  A number of renowned architects designed edifices they never intended to be built.  There are, I learned, even architects who've designed dozens, even hundreds, of buildings without having a single one built.  Most such architects, not surprisingly, are professors:  They design such buildings for instructional purposes or as academic exercises.

Such an architect might be behind this bicycle:

Of course, it began its life as a bicycle--a Pashley, the "Princess" model, to be exact.  But the Arcade Bicycle Basin not intended for you to ride to school or the park or simply to be seen looking fashionable while riding a bike--even though it retains everything the Princess normally comes with, save for the Brooks saddle, if you buy it in your local shop.

Instead of the seat, the designers installed a shelf, which mounts to the wall and supports a vitreous china washbasin.  Interestingly, the bike retains the wicker basket that's normally supplied with it. Not surprisingly, it comes in handy for hand towels and the like.

I guess I can understand integrating a bicycle into one's daily ablutions.  I wonder, though, whether anyone has tried to turn a washroom unit into a rideable bicycle.

One thing I know:  That basin wouldn't be nearly as comfortable as a broken-in Brooks saddle.  Not for me, anyway!

Don't Ask

What's even more interesting than what people transport on bicycles--whether of the pedal- or pedal-assisted variety--is how those things are transported on two wheels.

What's just as interesting is how passengers are transported on bikes built for one.

I won't ask what she was doing there!