From The Ferry

Today I didn't have classes.  But I had a couple of errands to run in Manhattan.  As it was a mild, almost warm, day and clouds passed across a sunny sky, I was more than happy to ride.  


Then, I found myself in the Union Square area.  From there, it's just a few minutes to the Staten Island Ferry.  I got to the terminal just as a boat was to depart.  


Besides Vera, there were about five other bikes on the boat going to Staten Island, and another dozen on the return trip. On both trips, I saw more cyclists than I'd normally expect to see at those times on a weekday.


I'm not a photographer, so take what I'm about to say for what it's worth:  Every photographer should ride the Ferry.  There are seemingly endless photo opportunities.  Plus, the interplay of water, skylines and the interiors of the boat makes for some very interesting light.


Plus, it can be a rather romantic ride:

Given that there are so many commuters on the Ferry, there are almost always sleepers:

and dreamers:

Of course, every nautical crossing must include a Gatsby Moment:

Finally, since I am one of those snotty New Yorkers who sniffs when I deign to use the word "tourist", I will offer you a photo that's about as touristy as you can get:

Line And Form

In keeping with the tone and spirit of yesterday's post, I'm going to continue on the theme of cycling and visual imagery.

So, I want you to pay attention to the composition of the photo you see here.  I find it interesting that the lines in her dress--particularly the ones below her waist--flow in almost exactly the same way as the lines of her bicycle.  And the lines above her waist all but mirror the ones between the bricks in the wall.

Seriously...I am thinking about line, form and composition.  This isn't just another one of those blogs that shows pretty girls on bikes.  Really!

Photo from Simply Bike

 

Cycling Images

Most people would probably say that photographs are more "realistic" than drawings or paintings.  On the other hand, they would probably associate dreams, fantasies and other reflections of the imagination with painting, drawing and other graphic arts.

I held such notions before I saw images from photographers like Eugene Atget and realized that they were sometimes just as fabricated (I don't mean that word in a derogatory sense) as the canvases of Titian and Fragonard.  And, in their own ways, those photos can be as impressionistic and visionary as much of what Monet, vanGogh and Picasso did.

The lines between the fantastical and the quotidian are blurred in cycling art as much as they are in other kinds of art.  I think you'll see that in this photograph:

and this poster:

.

Is it "just" my imagination, or are those two images related (aside from the fact that each one has a human and a bicycle)?

Italian Ices, Gelati and Cycling

I have long felt that Italian Ices are the perfect refreshment for a bike ride on a summer day.  As we've had summer-like weather here in NYC (even warmer than Florida!)since the end of last week, I've been slurping them down. 

I usually go with one of the classic flavors--lemon or cherry--especially when I stop at the Lemon Ice King of Corona, which has made my favorite Italian ices for as long as I can remember. (Hey, I knew about LIKC before The King of Queens "discovered" it!)

LIKC is what some would call "old school":  While they offer ices in a dizzying array of flavors, including watermelon, bubble gum and spumoni, they don't do gelatos or sorbets.  They make all of their ices themselves, and their fruit flavors actually have bits of fruit and are flavored with the fruits, or the juices from them.  

On the other hand, I've found another place that makes wonderful "traditional" Italian ices, as well as the creamy ones-- and gelati and frozen yogurt-- a bit off my commute route:

Pesso's is located in Bayside, in a quiet residential neighborhood.  The owners are very friendly and obliging, and they--like LIKC--will let you sample any flavor.  In fact, at Pesso's, if you ask for their newest flavor, they will insist on your sampling it "just to be sure you like it."

Today I sampled--and ordered--the most unusual gelato flavor I'd ever heard of:  olive oil. Yes, you read that right:  olive oil gelato.  

I didn't know what to expect, but I can still say that it's not anything I could or would have expected.  It had a lighter, creamier taste--more like a really good vanilla or cane syrup ice cream.  I didn't taste the olive oil when it was in my mouth.  However, a few minutes after I finished a small cup of it, I could taste the olive oil, ever so slightly.  And, it left that smooth but not slimy after-texture a really good virgin olive oil leaves in the back of your mouth.

I would definitely order it again.  The only thing about it, though, is that I wouldn't mix it with other flavors, as I would with, say, a fruit ice and chocolate or vanilla sorbet. About the only things I can image combining with the olive oil gelato are nuts, specifically almonds, pistachios or walnuts.  

Now, I rather doubt that olive oil gelato will be on the training table of the Italian national cycling team any time soon.  But I would welcome it at the end of a long, hot ride.  

Arielle Opens Up A Ride

Yesterday I took a chance.  The last time I rode to Point Lookout, it was closed to all except residents of the eponymous village.  I figured that even if it were closed, I could still go to one of the other stretches of shoreline that are near it.  Though not as scenic, they would nonetheless provide a nice setting for a warm, sunny, breezy early-spring day.

Fortunately, luck was on my side.  Stuff like that happens when I ride Arielle. 

I think that she really likes that spot, and knows how much I like it.  So she called in a favor and the gates opened on this spot that overlooks the ocean and the bay.

Or, maybe being the nimble bike she is, she wanted to see a peloton:

At least, I think that's what a peloton would look like if it were ridden on waves by ducks.  Duck racing?  You didn't hear about it from me!

  

Nina: A Nice Person In A Nice Bike Shop

You've probably seen the following in your favorite bike shop:

• MAMILs
• Fitness buffs who want to try a new sport/activity
• Customers who have more money to spend than riding experience
• People who haven't ridden since they were kids and are intimidated by all of the newfangled bikes and accessories
• Women who are there with their boyfriends/husbands--and, much less frequently, men who are there with their girlfriends/wives
• The ones who've decided to go on the next MS (or other charity) ride, but haven't been on a bike in years.

There are other kinds of people you meet in bike shops.  But, based on my experience in working in shops and having visited many others, the people I've mentioned are the one who seem to be found in just about any shop.

Today, I met someone who doesn't fit any of the above categories.  I stopped in the shop--James Vincent Bicycles of North Bergen, NJ --in the middle of today's ride.  The shop has been in business for 75 years and, even though it carries "serious" racing and mountain bikes from the likes of Cannondale, Trek and Giant, it attracts a lot of people from the immediate neighborhood, sometimes for non-bike-related issues.

The young woman I met today is one of those neighborhood denizens.  Actually, her father was there for a non-bike issue, and she accompanied him.

But she wasn't one of those bored and resentful family members who doesn't share her relative's enthusiasm for cycling.  In fact, she was on the same kind of wheels as her father rode:

Nina could get around perfectly well without that cart.  But her father couldn't:  He had no legs.  He'd gone to the shop to have something in the chasis tightened:  He could feel it coming loose, and it would've taken only a decent-sized hole or crack in the sidewalk or pavement to immobilize him.


I only got to talk with Nina briefly.  She seemed like a very nice and intelligent young woman.  I'm guessing that she rode her cart to the shop so that her father would have it in case he needed to leave his at the shop.  Even if that's the case, she's doing a great thing in helping him and experiencing, however briefly, the world as her father does.


I rode behind them for a few blocks until they turned.  I continued down the Jersey side of the Hudson River to the Bayonne Bridge, and through Staten Island to the Ferry.  I'm not religious, but I can say I felt blessed:  two good legs, a great bike, a beautiful day and an interesting ride.

A Simple Life?

Normally, I'm happy to get home from a trip to Florida.  These days, I'm happy to see my parents, in part because I don't know how many more years they'll be in this world.  But, apart from them and some lovely bike-rides (The good and bad news is that they're all flat!), I have almost no motivation to go to Florida.


Since I got back last night, though, I'm feeling a little wistful. I think the feeling started on Monday, when I rode down A1A through Painters Hill and Flagler Beach.  Along the way, I stopped, for no particular reason, in one of those stores that sells things made out of seashells.


The proprietress was one of those friendly, helpful and sun-bleached people you meet by the sea, though not necessarily by the trendy beaches.  "Anything I can help you with, let me know," she intoned in a voice of sunshine and sea salt.  She wasn't one of those surly, hipper-than-thou storeclerks you see working in trust-fund enclaves.  She probably wasn't making a lot of money, but she also, most likely, didn't need to. 


I imagined myself in her place, but with my cats and bikes.  I imagined myself closing the store and riding Tosca up and down A-1A or along any number of other roads.  It used to amaze me there weren't more fixed-gear bikes in Florida; this time, I saw a pretty fair number in and around St. Augustine.  Of course, their riders were young, or seemed to be:  I don't expect a senior citizen who hasn't been on a bike since he or she was a teenager to hop on a track bike.


Anyway, I'll be back to my normal rides, work and such soon enough.  One day, if I can afford it and don't have to worry about property values, I might have a house that looks like this (ha, ha):

Half A Century On A Cruiser

Today I rode the longest distance I've done on the cruiser I borrowed from my parents' neighbor:  52 miles.  Given that it's designed to make the rider feel as if he or she is sitting on a sofa chair while the boardwalk goes clack-clack-clack under the tires, I feel good about the ride.

The bike I rode is certainly nothing like these, which I saw parked in front of a convenience store near the Old City:

At least, I got to St. Augustine faster than Ponce de Leon did when he was looking for the Fountain of Youth.

And I will say that even though I wrecked the original rear wheel, the bike is sturdy if flexy. 

If it had been about fifteen years ago, I would have tried to ride the bike across the moat just below the castle.  After all, there's no water in the moat and no water=no alligators. 

There is a dedicated bike lane for much of the length of A-1A.  One way in which drivers--even the transplanted ones--here differ from the ones in New York is that they don't use the bike lanes to pass or double-park.

Plus, the beaches, inlets, dunes and ocean are beautiful.  Here is a view from the bridge over the Matanzas Inlet:

Check out this formation on a nearby beach:

St. Augustine, in addition to the tourist traps one would expect, has some interesting establishments.  At least, the spirit behind them is not what you'd find in New York:

A Giggling Gator?  I'm having a hard time picturing it.  However, I have to love a place with a sign that says "Open when we get here\ Closed when we leave."


 

Whatever Doesn't Stop Us, Slows Us Down

All right.  So I've slowed down, and I can't blame it all on riding a cruiser.  I also won't make the excuse that I'm enjoying the sunshine, blue skies and surf, although I am indeed reveling in those things.

I won't even blame the not-much-longer-than-my-hand lizards that darted across my path in Painters Hill.  I must say, though, that I found myself thinking of Geico commercials, even though I have absolutely no reason to buy auto insurance.

However, there is one thing I can blame for slowing me down momentarily.

This adorable (in his/her own way, anyway) creature wandered into my path after a few lizards played chicken with my wheels.  What he/she expected to find in the path, I'll never know.  That particular stretch of path is bounded by tall grass that ends on the banks of the Florida Intracoastal Waterway, which parallels the Atlantic beaches on the other side of the path and Route A-1A. 

Perhaps my armored friend was confused or trying to evade a less likeable creature.  Or, perhaps, he/she didn't find any edibles to his or her liking, and thought that a cyclist might be carrying some tasty carbohydrates.  In fact, I wasn't, as I was trying to burn off the lunch I had with Mom and one of her friends, and build an appetite for dinner, which would consist of leftovers from Easter dinner.  Fortunately, said dinner consisted of foods that taste better the second or third day.

Mr./Ms. Tortoise rowed along the path on front legs that were more like flippers, and back into the tall grass.  Then the lizards darted out, and the ocean seemed to deepen in a shade of turquoise at the end of a surprisingly desert-like dune.

On A Borrowed Cruiser, Again

Another holiday with parents in Florida means...another ride on the borrowed cruiser.

A neighbor of my parents bought the bike years ago.  Now, at age 85, arthritis and other health problems keep her from riding it.  Now the bike's riders consist of me and a couple of her kids and grandkids.  However, I think it hasn't been ridden since I rode it at Christmastime.  That's the reason why she was surprised when I told her I'd done some repairs, including the installation of a new rear wheel.

Last time I was here, I rode a few miles on a flat because I was nowhere near an air pump.  I'd been riding a stretch of A-1A along the ocean, past Gamble Rogers State Recreation Area and a bunch of foreclosed-upon or otherwise-abandoned houses.  I once had a wheel from which spokes flew off at high speeds; I didn't have to ride at such high speed for them to fly off the wheel on that bike.

Plus, the old rear wheel had one of Shimano's old coaster brake/3-speed hubs.  It's one of the worst Shimano parts I've ever used or worked on:  the gears never adjusted quite right.  If you've ever had an out-of-adjustment 3-speed (Sturmey-Archers made after about 1970 never stayed in adjustment), you know that's not just an inconvenience:  You're pedalling hard or spinning fast, and all of a sudden, you find yourself in "neutral."  You push a pedal forward and your face hurtles toward a very close encounter with your handlebars. Or, worse things can happen.

Plus, as a long-ago shop mechanic, I learned that hubs have to make up their minds as to whether they're going to be coaster brake or internally geared.  From what I've seen, a hub can't do both well.  Usually, it's the gears that suffer.  At least, that was the case on the Shimano, Sturmey Archer and Sachs coaster brake/3speed hubs.

To my knowledge, Shimano doesn't make such a hub anymore--or, at least, not the model that was on that bike.  SA stopped making them, but have started making them again since the takeover by SunRace and the move to Taiwan.  Sachs, after taking over Huret, Maillard, Sedis and other French component manufacturers, was in turn swallowed up by SRAM.  I don't think they're making internally geared hubs with coaster brakes.

Anyway, the bike now has a coaster brake rear hub, an Alex rim (not as good as Mavic or Velocity, but better than what was on there) and DT spokes.  Plus, it has a Michelin mountain bike tire, albeit one of the cheaper ones.

So far, so good.  But now I'm going to reveal that I've spent too much time around messngers, hipsters and wannabes.

Actually, I installed that pink chain as a bit of a joke. I don't know whether the nice (She really is!) old lady from whom I borrowed the bike, or her kids or grandkids, will notice.  If they do, I hope they share my twisted sense of humor.