A New Year’s Eve Voyage

 The other day—New Year’s Eve—I took yet another ride to Point Lookout. I don’t know whether I was burning residual calories from Christmas week or waging a pre-emotive strike against the evening’s indulgences.

Whatever it was, I got what might have been the best treat of all, at least to my eyes. 

That softly glowing band between the sea and sky made the ship—and the few people I saw on the boardwalks of the Rockaways and Long Beach—seem solitary but not isolated, alone but not lonely. That, of course, is how I felt while riding Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore Special, under a sky that was muted gray but not gloomy .

Some of us need that light, and to move in or occupy it like that ship, because this season encourages, and sometimes forces, extroversion, camaraderie and bright lights. Some of  need times of solitude, and solo bike rides, to navigate, let alone enjoy, holiday gatherings of any size.

For The New Year

 Happy New Year!

I couldn’t resist posting this image from Cicloposse because, well, I like it.  

The image was used to herald 2021 which, nearly everyone hoped, would be much better than 2020. Or at least people hoped—or even assumed—that it couldn’t be worse.

I hold onto similar hope for 2024. Some have said that it might include this nation’s last democratic (with a small “d”) election, especially if you-know-who is elected. But many people who took up cycling during the pandemic have kept with it and there does seem to be some awareness, at least among some officials, that urban and transportation planning can’t begin and end with moving as many motor vehicles as possible from point A to point B, as it has since at least the building of the Interstate highway system. 

I hope that the increased consciousness and good work I’ve described isn’t undone by energy and economic policies that include only fossil fuel-powered vehicles and deems nuclear power and natural gas to be the only “green” alternatives. I mean, if President Ronald Reagan could declare, with a straight face, that “trees cause pollution,” what could a Trump administration say about any kind of alternative transportation?

Even as I think about such possibilities, I still hold on to hope. A new year has begun, after all, and it looks like a good day for a ride.

What wishes do you have, dear readers, for the New Year?

He Never Looked So Good

 When I was a child, I had a fever.

All right, I won’t sing the best-known Pink Floyd song. For that matter, I won’t sing: I don’t want to risk arrest for disturbing the peace!

So…when I was a child, there was a very popular toy.  It was also popular in my parents’ time. So, playing with it might have been the last time I could enjoy such a thing without thinking, “I’ve become my mother/father*”

Mr. Potato Head, I’ve recently learned, was the first toy advertised on television. It’s still in production today and, perhaps not surprisingly, featured in Toy Story.

As I remember, there were all kinds of accessories available—including a little bicycle for him to ride.  I don’t recall him, however, looking so stylish

unless, perhaps, there was a fin-de-siécle edition of Monsieur Pomme de Terre for the Burgundy countryside.

*—Early in my gender affirmation process, my mother had just heard a “great new singer:” Lady Gaga.

“She is great,” I affirmed. “She’s one of my new favorites.”

A pause.

“Omigod! I’ve become my mother.” We laughed.