The October before last, I suffered the worst nightmare of anyone who cycles in traffic: I was “doored.”
I ended up with 30 stitches and a lot of aches and pains. Still, it could have been worse.
At least, I imagine getting “bulled” could be even more painful. And the driver who doored me didn’t run from the scene!
Mornings fill with one commitment or another. So, for me, it's a good thing the days are getting longer: On an afternoon ride, I can look forward to more hours of daylight. I don't avoid riding in the dark altogether, but I really prefer to ride in daylight, especially in heavily-trafficked or unfamiliar areas.
On Friday, I started another 120 km Point Lookout ride after midday--at 1:45 pm, to be exact. That meant my last hour or so of riding was in darkness. But I was treated to some light and vivid or stark, depending on your point of view, colors by the sea.
The public beach and playground area of Point Lookout are closed to repair erosion and prevent more of the same. But I ventured on to a nearby side-street where, surprisingly, the gate was open to an area normally restricted to residents. A couple of people--one a man walking an English Sheepdog, another an elderly woman--passed me on their way out. Both greeted me warmly and didn't seem to care (or know) that I don't live in the area.
I think people who are out walking the beach on a chilly, windy day have respect for anyone else who's doing the same.
On Saturday, I got on, La-Viande, my King of Mercia, with no particular destination in mind. I found myself wandering along the North Shore from the Malcolm X Promenade (Flushing Bay Marina) to Fort Totten, where I took a turn down to Cunningham Park and Nassau County, where I pedaled down to Hewlett (part of the Five Towns and up through the town of Hempstead, which contains more contrasts in wealth and poverty, and residential grandeur and squalor, than any place in the area besides New York City itself.
As I saw the blue sky tinge with orange, I started toward home--or so I thought. Instead, I found myself wandering through suburban developments that gave way to the SUNY-Old Westbury campus and long lanes lined with mansions and horse farms. I saw a sign announcing that I'd entered Brookville--which, it turns out, is home to Marc Anthony and Prince Felix of Luxembourg.
I didn't take any photos on my Saturday ride because my battery had less power than I thought and I wanted to save it for an emergency that, thankfully, didn't happen. But I had forgotten, until that ride, how such a rural setting could be found only 50 kilometers from my apartment!
And I ended my day with that ride--and the day before with a ride to an "exclusive" beach.
