Mercury was in retrograde and you could feel it: the air was cool, but the humidity and pollution made everything oppressive. A morning of technical (computer) problems took up perfectly good riding time (in both Lucille's and my opinion) and left us no option but to leave them unsolved and do errands in traffic. A trip to 34th Street was fairly straight forward (although my accountant forgot the appointment and I had to reschedule). The second trip over to the East Side (via 30th St) was completely annoying. Blocked streets and rampant bike lane abuse from cars and motorcycles alike. Because of the humidity, I felt like a carriage horse with my nose in the tail pipe in front of me. Don't know if I'll repeat this come Summer (nor should those horses have to).
And now a little bit about "Bike-ism." At both of these destinations, we dealt with "Bike-ist" doormen who said we could not go in the elevator. The alternative I suppose is for me to leave Lucille outside. She's very cute though - have I mentioned this? - and easy prey for anyone to carry off, even with a lock, (which I don't have). Sometimes they want me to leave her with them, sometimes they tell me to take the freight elevator. But here is where the Brompton is such a great advantage: Lucille folded up neat as a piece of paper (as their eyes widened) and we were in the elevators before they knew how to object.
By 4pm with errands accomplished, we made it to Riverside Park - where traffic on the West Side Highway was bumper to bumper in rush hour. The air was gruesome. Health wise, it's probably a toss up whether it's worthwhile breathing in the nasty air to get to the good air. Perhaps the subway up is a better solution on days like this.
There is a gorgeous promenade from 86th-96th St in the Park. In Summer, the trees create a picturesque, almost nostalgic bower that makes you just want to enter.
And now a little bit about "Bike-ism." At both of these destinations, we dealt with "Bike-ist" doormen who said we could not go in the elevator. The alternative I suppose is for me to leave Lucille outside. She's very cute though - have I mentioned this? - and easy prey for anyone to carry off, even with a lock, (which I don't have). Sometimes they want me to leave her with them, sometimes they tell me to take the freight elevator. But here is where the Brompton is such a great advantage: Lucille folded up neat as a piece of paper (as their eyes widened) and we were in the elevators before they knew how to object.
By 4pm with errands accomplished, we made it to Riverside Park - where traffic on the West Side Highway was bumper to bumper in rush hour. The air was gruesome. Health wise, it's probably a toss up whether it's worthwhile breathing in the nasty air to get to the good air. Perhaps the subway up is a better solution on days like this.
There is a gorgeous promenade from 86th-96th St in the Park. In Summer, the trees create a picturesque, almost nostalgic bower that makes you just want to enter.
Today I rode it to the end, but I knew there was another promenade further up. Had to leave the Park and cross 96th to find it but upon re-entry, it miraculously appeared.
It ends at about 120th (according to GPS) with tennis courts, bathroom and water fountain, (good to know). Checked the time: 4:48. This is the end of Riverside Park, except for the bike path along the River. It will be within these boundaries that further explorations will occur.
If I go by the rules.
According to the rules, in the 60s, cyclists are relegated to a grim strip of pavement under the highway. "All Bicycles Must Dismount!" proclaim the signs leading to pedestrian areas. Pedestrians in the same strip on the other hand, get to see the river - and this:
If I go by the rules.
According to the rules, in the 60s, cyclists are relegated to a grim strip of pavement under the highway. "All Bicycles Must Dismount!" proclaim the signs leading to pedestrian areas. Pedestrians in the same strip on the other hand, get to see the river - and this:
Or this.
The thing is, they change the art. And just as I'm about to investigate, it's gone and replaced by something else. So today, I thought I'd walk Lucille in, and take a look.
OK, it's not all great, but how about this?
And this sort of "Guerilla" piece which was a little out of the way. ("OK, we'll show it but...")
Art, like cycling, is another world. It's a momentary experience, but in just that instant, it opens up our consciousness to new possibilities. We breathe and get refreshing perspective which we carry back into our day. Sometimes just one piece of art can totally change our perspective - and our life.
Cycling and art - two kinds of essential breathing - the best way I know to beat Mercury in retrograde.
By the time we got home, the pollution didn't seem so bad. And the computer problem? Solved itself.
Cycling and art - two kinds of essential breathing - the best way I know to beat Mercury in retrograde.
By the time we got home, the pollution didn't seem so bad. And the computer problem? Solved itself.