18 June 2024

Ride Here. Just Don’t Go Bare

 I have cycled many times in Palm Coast, Florida. It never occurred to me, however, to ride in the nude.

That’s probably a good thing. According to a survey from Lawnstarter.com, Palm Coast ranked fourth-worst among 500 US cities surveyed for naked bike riding. Each city was ranked in five categories:  Naked Biking Popularity, Cyclist-Friendliness, Nudist-Friendliness, Climate and Safety.

Although I could ride on lanes that paralleled some of the main roads, they sometimes began seemingly out of nowhere and ended abruptly. (It’s been nearly two years since I’ve been to PC; perhaps things have improved.) Also, for all of its bike lanes, the city and state are auto-centric. So while there is some semblance of a cycling infrastructure, and I wasn’t the only cyclist using it, I wouldn’t say Palm Coast is particularly cyclist-friendly.





I would love to know how the surveyors gauged the nudist-friendliness of Palm Coast (or any place else). Jacksonville, about 100 miles to the north, is often seen as the port of entry, if you will, to the Bible Belt. I don’t know whether PC qualifies as BB territory, but it’s definitely conservative in a Southern way. So someone who decides to unbuckle might suffer the fate of two Dutch racers who changed from their cycling kit between two car doors in a Kansas parking lot.

15 June 2024

Morning Ride To The Island

 Since my move, I’ve been creating some new rides—and finding new routes for old ones.




Yesterday’s ride fell into the latter category. I took an early morning ride to City Island—officially part of the Bronx and New York City but so different—via Bronx Park and the lanes that parallel Pelham Parkway, the Hutchinson River Parkway and City Island Road.





It’s good to know that it can be an early morning or end-of-day ride:  Going to the end of the island and back is about an hour’s worth of cycling.

Because none of the restaurants (yes, they’re all about seafood) were open, it really felt like a sleepy New England fishing village—especially since it seemed that everyone who was out was fishing or walking a dog.