Happy New Year!

 Happy New Year!

You've probably heard the expression, "May you live in interesting times."  Although often uttered as a benediction, it's said to be a translation of a curse:  "interesting" is, according to this story, is a euphemism for "difficult."  Others have claimed that it was always meant to be said ironically:  The wisher wants the recipient to live in peaceful, i.e., boring, times.

Perhaps more important whether than wanting someone else, or one's self, to live in interesting, boring, peaceful, tumultuous, or whatever kind, of times is how different you want 2023 to be from 2022.

Image by Peachaya Tanomsup

From Solitude To Celebrants: A Ride From Yesterday To Today

 Yesterday was even milder than Thursday.  I had a few things to do in the morning and early afternoon, so I didn't get out for a ride until mid-afternoon.  By that time, the weather was spring-like, with a temperature around 10C (50F) and bright sunshine.

Since I knew my ride would be shorter than the one I did on Thursday, I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, out for the spin.  I did the sort of ride I often do in such times:  along the waterfront of "Hipster Hook"--the Brooklyn neighborhoods of Williamsburg and Greenpoint and the Queens environs of Long Island City and Astoria, where I live.  

On the way back, I took a side-trip into Roosevelt Island.  I enjoyed pedaling along the waterfront paths and around the lighthouse, but in one way that part of the ride could hardly have been more different from my trek to Point Lookout and back.  

During yesterday's ride, the Rockaway Boardwalk and Atlantic Beach Bridge were deserted, and I saw fewer people on the Long Beach boardwalk, along with less traffic on the roadways, than one normally encounters on a weekday.  On the other hand, all of the waterfront areas, especially on Roosevelt Island, were as full of visitors as a beach on a summer day.  Many of those who were walking and taking selfies were, I imagine, tourists in town for tonight's celebrations.  I wonder how many of them are paying hundreds of dollars a night in hotel fees for the privilege of arriving in Times Square twelve hours--with no backpacks or items-- before the ball drop and being forced to stand in the same spot for all of that time.

How do I plan to "ring out" the old year?  I feel as if I have been, during the past few days, in rides that end in sunsets.  Later, I'm going to hang out with a couple of friends who might or might not pay attention to the ball drop. Perhaps it's a sign of, ahem, midlife, that changing calendars seems less momentous than it did.  The constants, whatever they are, seem more important.  For me, they include, as they have for most of my life, cycling.

A Solitary, But Not Lonely, Ride

 Yesterday seemed tropical, at least in comparison to the weather we had for Christmas weekend.  The temperature reached 45F (8C) in the middle of my ride and the sun shimmered behind a scrim of cirrus clouds.  Best of all, a very light wind blew at my back for the part of the return leg of my ride--on La-Vande, my Mercian King of Mercia.

Given that it was so mild for this time of year--and in comparison to recent conditions--I was surprised to see this:

I would've expected to see other cyclists, dog-walkers or simply walkers along the Rockaway boardwalk.  I mean, most people spent the past few days indoors and people who live by the beach year-round seem to be a bit hardier than most.  But I had that boardwalk to myself.  Then, I did a solo crossing of the Atlantic Beach Bridge. That's right:  Not a single vehicle or pedestrian--or seagull!--was present when I crossed it.  

What made having the boardwalk and bridge to myself even more surprising was that it was on a weekday--a Thursday.  Then again, it's a weekday of the "week when nothing happens"---between Christmas and New Year's Day.  I know that schools are closed so, perhaps, parents have stayed home with their kids--or have gone away.

The Long Beach boardwalk was hardly less solitary:  Only a couple of other cyclists, and a few strollers, graced it.  Finally, at Point Lookout, a couple who chanced greeted me with a shy, furtive, "Hello," as if they were as surprised to see me as I was to see them.  

I opened a packet of Kar's Trail Mix (the holiday version, with the green and red cocoa candies), and emptied about a quarter of it into my mouth.  It was like rocket fuel for the ride back--as if  I needed it!  

The ride back was a little less solitary, but not lonely.  I must admit, I enjoyed having the boardwalk, and much of the roadway, to myself on a weekday.