A Wintery Ride

Those are the socks with batteries (red at the top), charged the night before. But they only work so well with cold wind blowing through my canvas shoes. So I’ve fashioned some “toe covers” from two bread bags (gluten free) which I wear inside my shoes.

The fingers go like this:

The phone rings. It’s a fellow cyclist to whom I mention I’m just about to go out for a ride. It’s cold and blustery out. He cautions against it as he says the streets are freezing over. What he doesn’t know is that I’m holding the phone already dressed in gear it took a half hour to meticulously put on. After all that grief, I’m not about to back out now.

Besides, I haven’t ridden in days; I am becoming less and less fit company - and less and less fit. He wishes me a safe ride and I continue with my plan: to ride over Williamsburg Bridge, then around the Brooklyn Navy Yard returning over the Manhattan Bridge. Lola is of course my chosen bike.

Here’s what my outfit looks like (and don’t forget 6 tissues for obligatory nose blowing):

Don't laugh.

This is for the toes:

Black warming liners, left (white batteries above, also charged the night before) with fuzzy gloves to cover. For legs, winter biking pants with leg warmers that go over the warming socks. 


I’d like to mention that the order is just as important as the gear, because if I don’t get it right, I have to start all over, and time is light at this time of year. I could miss my ride completely just trying to get ready for it. 

My core is well layered - good.

I give my middle finger a nice fat hematoma pumping up Lola’s tires (Grrrr! Will somebody please show me how to do this?), and I’m on my way.

I’m not the only one who’s bundled up.

After all, look at the season:

But my fingers and toes are good so no complaints (those bread bags work better than expected).

I navigate down 2nd Ave, left on Stanton, right on Suffolk and the entrance to the Williamsburg bridge opens up before me - a sight I haven’t seen in far too long. This is by far the most bike-friendly bridge we have, the smoothest ride. And I’m just loving that I have it all to myself. It doesn’t occur to me that there might be a reason for this.

Lola and I zoom up the path as the J train passes by on the right.

The path gets a little damp as I ascend and then – wait a minute, is that slush?

Yipes, Lola is not built for slush. Hell, I'm not built for slush. I slow waaaaay down and think of the warning my friend gave me - oh why didn’t I listen? And why didn’t I at least bring Lucille?! She’d be so much more adept at this. She's a sturdy little commuter, ready for anything. But it's too late to think about that now.

The pavement isn't getting any better, and I consider turning around. But then I see in the distance something I’ve never before encountered: a kind of “bike path” street sweeper, and he’s headed my way.

---

If I can just ride slowly until this guy passes me, the path behind him is bound to be clear.

The street sweeper passes...

And I experience a deep sense of gratitude that the City would spend money on something like this (has to be a mistake – who cares about pedestrians and cyclists on a bridge?). But though the path is clear of slush, I’m realizing the tarmac is still slick and I take it easy.

I make it off the bridge OK, and thanks to my Summer rides, I know my way around the Brooklyn Navy Yard now: Kent to Flushing, right on Navy, left on Sands. But the wind is gusting something fierce, and I rarely shift into my higher derailer, even on the straight-aways.

At the entrance to the Manhattan Bridge, I encounter a cyclist with an antic sense of humor.

Yes, that’s a giraffe on his helmet with a propeller on top (well of course it is). A cheery character to happen upon in this grim weather, I think.

And then there’s the Manhattan Bridge itself, with those annoying cement seams. Must have envisioned only pedestrians.

Each time I’ve ridden the Manhattan Bridge I’ve searched for the quickest way to the East Side promenade so I can ride around the Battery. Today, I stumble across it: Forsyth around to Henry, left on Catherine. But there’s glass on the streets and in spite of the bike lane sign (see below) they’re full of potholes and damage.

And I know the East Side path. I ride it because it's interesting, but the path is in deplorable shape (yes this is an actual bike path).

Lola gives me the smoothest ride she can, but it’s not fair to ask it of her. For all my yearning to ride with Lola, she is not meant to rough it like this. Her tires have no tread (bad on slippery surfaces), and are much more vulnerable to glass. Both Lucille and Janet could have easily done this ride. Lola is meant for finer things; for distance, for speed, for climbing - for rides no other bike can give me.

Two hours after starting out, I’m back feeling more myself; like I’ve breathed for the first time in days. For that, the trip was worth it (and getting out of my biking gear takes no time at all). But next time I’ll pay more attention to sage advice when it's offered. And next time I’ll take a sturdier bike.