A New York Day

I awake, have some coffee and stretch while watching the local TV station. Stretching has become a necessary part of my routine, now that I’ve been spending so much time on Lucille. As I watch, I am sparked by a sweet story about Brooklyn Boatworks, a program for kids to build - and sail - their own sail boats – wow! Today they are going to launch them at the Brooklyn waterfront. How can I miss this? 

I have a quick breakfast and decide to visit the waterfront before the weekend crowds get there. The Brooklyn Bridge would be the most sensible route, but for cycling I much prefer the Williamsburg Bridge (see video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDYrFN-cy6Q&feature=youtu.be). 

It’s well graded, the pedestrians are separated from the cyclists most of the time; the mesh doesn’t bother me. Oh, and it’s pink.

As a New Yorker, I take advantage of public transportation whenever I can – no point spending an hour just to get to the bridge: Lucille folds up nicely, and we take the F train to Delancey Street.

Where the Williamsburg Bridge is right ahead of us in the distance.

Rumor has it that the entrance to the Williamsburg Bridge is a routine killer of cyclists. But from the subway at least, if you obey the traffic signals or are willing to walk your bike until you get to what I call Biker’s Island...

You should have no problem. Across we go – it is a brilliant late Summer day. 

In the past, I’ve landed in Brooklyn and as a novice, meekly followed signs to the Brooklyn Waterfront - but it would take a divining rod to find water by following any of the paths I have been directed to in the past. This time, I have consulted my bike map first (and also the occasional cyclist), going first down to Kent, around the Brooklyn Navy Yard, then up Tillary. which brings me to the bluffs of Brooklyn Heights.

 Which I’ve seen before from here.

Eventually I make the decent to Old Fulton Street and Bargemusic - pretty much where I want to be. It doesn’t take long to find the kids and their sweet little sailboats.

Here's a little bit about the program: http://www.brooklynboatworks.org/program
And a photo from their web site.

The youngest kids ride in the boat while an adult does the sailing. The older kids sail their boats with an adult on board. Sailing is something I never learned to do, so it is fascinating to watch these kids literally get their skills in front of me.

As I continue my ride, I am stopped by a mother and her son looking for the roller rink at Pier 2. I didn’t know there was a roller rink there, but when I ride there myself, I see that what’s going on there is going to make Chelsea Piers look like a miniature golf course:

And they are still building piers out there...

There’s room in Brooklyn! Where they got shorted in the Parks department, they’re making up for it in their waterfront. It is really impressive.

After riding the rest of the Waterfront, I decide to take the Brooklyn Bridge back (see video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKCUppm8bHM&feature=youtu.be). I have mixed feeling about this bridge. On the one hand, there's no mistaking when you’re on the Brooklyn Bridge. The sweeping views...

And the bridge views seen through its steel ropes, are breath-taking, unique to that place, and that place alone. 

On the other hand, if you’re riding a folding bike, its planks make you feel like you’re riding over a washboard.

And as far as pedestrians and cyclists go, it’s the Hells Gate of bridges; the struggle between the two is constant, with one meager line all that stands between numbers and aggression. On weekdays, pedestrians outnumber cyclists but their numbers are manageable. On the weekends in the summer however, I would not suggest this route for cycling.

Arriving back on the Manhattan side, Chambers is an easy ride to the West Side Greenway, and I am soon home.

Until I get a phone call with an obligation about my mother’s apartment, necessitating a trip to the Upper West. Having been the point person for my mother's care for 10 years, I have come to dread this commute, symbolizing as it has both my sadness at her failing, and my constant obligations - which could never turn back old age no matter what I did. Thanks to Lucille though, these trips have become a rather joyful excuse to ride; those 40 minutes along the Hudson helping me process whatever lies at the other end.

When I return, I receive an invitation from a friend to share her roof top sunset view. I change into an easy Summer dress (from the $20 collection), don’t even bother with gym shoes – it’s only 10 blocks away - and bicycle over.

The roof is gusty and I am constantly on the verge of asking to borrow a sweater. But the views are fabulous, changing with the light.

And I don't want to interrupt the conversation, which is full of surprises (you’re going on a DATE??), New York observations (have the value of gold and Manhattan real estate become roughly equivalent?), and tasty wine. I am also kindly offered a free theatre ticket for Monday on Governor’s Island, a place Lucille and I already know well. What a great opportunity!

It is a lovely Summer evening. As I return home, the wind gusts come back to haunt me however. Adjusting Lucille’s chassis on the sidewalk, my dress flies up in the air from all directions – I don’t even know where to reach first to grab it! I quickly weigh my options. Without my support, Lucille will fall. At the same time, I am confident that my undies are top of the line Victoria’s Secret (cost more than the dress actually), purchased for just such occasions (oh well, I suppose there may be some other kinds of occasions but I bike more than anything else these days). Lucille has kept my body in great shape, which I hope will buy me a little time until the wind dies down – but it doesn’t. The next thing I know, some disembodied hands are kindly tugging my hem back into place (I can’t see who it is for the fabric in front of my face). It is a sweet young woman who has seen my plight and come to my rescue. I thank her and ride carefully home – I can’t avoid gusts, but I can stay on the bicycle seat, which helps.

Only the day isn’t over. When I get to my block, it takes me awhile to be allowed in: there is a TV shoot in full progress (The Blacklist, the James Spader TV series, I learn).

I sit on the stoop and watch the pros in action.

In case you're thinking this is a normal day for me, it's not. Any one of these things might happen; they seldom happen all in one day. But that's the thing about New York - there are definitely days where they do.