A Ride Of March

Beware the ides of March...

We've all heard that warning.  You probably know that it came from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, even if you haven't seen or read it.  It was spoken by a soothsayer--a prophet or fortune-teller, depending on what you think--who foretold the emperor's assassination.

The transition from one season to another conjures up visions of other changes.  The middle of March, in particular, carries the weight of hope for new beginnings, which can be as fragile as new buds in this month's winds or a late cold snap.

Today it's a bit colder than normal for this time of year.  That, and gusts of 80KPH (about 50MPH) push reminders into our faces that winter isn't finished with us, not yet.

Two milennia after Caesar's murder, and four centuries after Shakespeare's play, the admonition is relevant.  I'm going to sneak in a ride, however brief--and beware the ides of March.

From Ride and Seek

How Much Does It Hold?

Racks, handlebar bags, panniers, saddle bags, baskets:  They come in all shapes and sizes.  About the latter: some come in "small," "medium" and "large."  But catalogues usually list their carrying capacities.  For racks, it's expressed in weight.  But, for bags and baskets, volume is usually more relevant.  So, a catalogue listing is more likely to say that  randonneur bag or delivery basket is more likely to say that it can hold whatever-number of cubic inches or liters.

I simply cannot conceptualize any number of cubic or square inches, feet, centimeters or meters.  When people ask me about the size of my apartment, all I can tell them is how many rooms I have.  Or, when I've gone apartment- (or house-) hunting, I could judge a dwelling's size--and then only in a relative way--by looking at it.  

On the other hand, it's pretty easy to visualize four, or whatever number of, liters:  We all see bottles and cans with that much water, milk, wine or some other liquid. Some catalogue, I forget which, expressed the carrying capacities of its bicycle luggage by the number of bagels or bottles of beer that could be packed into the handlebar, seat and pannier bags--and backpacks--it sold.  I liked that even better.  

What would they have said about their rain gear?  What is the difference between "water resistant" and "waterproof?"  Does a bag or jacket have to repel a certain number of raindrops to earn one designation or another?

What if carrying capacities were expressed in raindrops?

Riding Among Pink And Yellow Under A Gray Sky

 I didn't stop for this:

But I did stop for this:

I can't recall seeing cherry blossoms bloom so early in any year before this one.  These trees in Greenpoint, Brooklyn aren't at "peak" yet, but they will be very soon.

Normally, the cherry blossoms here in New York bud and flower a week or two later than the more famous ones in Washington, DC, which put on their show in late March and early April.  I am not a scientist, but something tells me that what I'm seeing isn't just a symptom of a mild winter:  This has hardly been the first in recent years.  I can't help but to think that it's a harbinger of more fundamental changes.

Don't get me wrong:  I am always happy to see the cherry blossoms, whenever they blossom.  But even if the weather was still cold, those lovely pink flowers were a sure sign that Spring had indeed arrived.  So...Does this mean that Spring is indeed arriving earlier?  Or will they become another precursor, like snowdrops and winter jasmine, of a season that is on its way, but has not quite arrived?

I went looking for answers.  Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear bike, led me to this:

A psychic reader under new management?  Does that mean readings will be less vague and more detailed?  That they'll be done faster?  Or that you get your money back if what the reader predicts doesn't come true?

At least my trip to the reader's storefront--which was closed--took me through some interesting vistas.  The block leading to it, (66th Street from Cooper to Myrtle Avenues) looked like a valley of "Ridgewood Yellow:"

Not surprisingly, I saw a couple of pro-police banners.  Not so long ago, Ridgewood was home to many officers.  I'll bet that some worked here:

The former headquarters of the eight-three (police parlance for the 83rd Precinct) is now a command station for that precinct, and several others in Brooklyn.  That doesn't surprise me, though on first glance, I would've thought it was an armory.

A desk officer saw me wandering around and came to the door.  "Can I help you?"  I explained that I simply had to stop and look at the building.  He then explained its history to me and told me the part of the building in which he was posted had been a horse stable.  

I tried to imagine it when the neighborhood--Bushwick--was home to German and Italian immigrants who probably would've been dressed in their "Sunday best" for church.  Apparently, the  young woman with pink hair and they young man in a long yellow paisley coat had no such thought:  It was just another building they passed on their way to the Cal-Mex cafe.

I guess pink and yellow, wherever they're seen under a gray sky, are signs that the season--whatever it is-- is here, or on its way.