When I was a kid, my mother and I couldn’t afford a real Christmas. We were hosted on Christmas Eve and Christmas day by a very kind family of relatives who took us in. In the meantime, we kindled our own Christmas spirit by attending the Christmas show at Radio City, and taking in the Christmas windows in Herald Square - Macy’s, Gimbel’s (yes, it was still there) - and Bloomingdales.
I have had Christmases where I really scored. I’ve had ones where I found the perfect gifts for others. But I’ve never had Christmases that equaled the spirit of those I had with my mother, just the two of us, as we stood huddled in the cold, marveling at the magic of those windows.
Times have changed of course. This year, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas if it weren’t celebrated on a bike. So I decide on the perfect tour: a night ride offered by the 5 Borough Bike Club out to Dyker Heights Brooklyn (for those who don’t know, that’s more or less at the foot of the Verrazano Bridge). The goal: to look at the legendary Christmas lights there.
The plan is to meet at Grand Army Plaza by subway. We’ll also be taking a break at a diner. With that description, my Brompton Lucille is my chosen companion. Plus she is rugged, and her tires have tread.
Once in Brooklyn, the ride doesn’t get off the ground for 40 minutes as we wait in the cold for the Sweep (it is maybe 36˚). My fingers and toes are adequately heated, but for the first time, although it’s not windy, I notice my core is chilly. And so is everyone else’s. Don’t worry, I’m told, you’ll warm up once we get started.
Finally our Sweep appears, and under the direction of our fearless leader,
I have had Christmases where I really scored. I’ve had ones where I found the perfect gifts for others. But I’ve never had Christmases that equaled the spirit of those I had with my mother, just the two of us, as we stood huddled in the cold, marveling at the magic of those windows.
Times have changed of course. This year, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas if it weren’t celebrated on a bike. So I decide on the perfect tour: a night ride offered by the 5 Borough Bike Club out to Dyker Heights Brooklyn (for those who don’t know, that’s more or less at the foot of the Verrazano Bridge). The goal: to look at the legendary Christmas lights there.
The plan is to meet at Grand Army Plaza by subway. We’ll also be taking a break at a diner. With that description, my Brompton Lucille is my chosen companion. Plus she is rugged, and her tires have tread.
Once in Brooklyn, the ride doesn’t get off the ground for 40 minutes as we wait in the cold for the Sweep (it is maybe 36˚). My fingers and toes are adequately heated, but for the first time, although it’s not windy, I notice my core is chilly. And so is everyone else’s. Don’t worry, I’m told, you’ll warm up once we get started.
Finally our Sweep appears, and under the direction of our fearless leader,
Our jolly group pedals off. Here is our route:
For safety reasons, I don’t usually ride at night. But going with a group allows for a ride I would never otherwise take on my own. And because it is a guided trip. I don’t have to pay attention to navigation and can really look around. As for the warming up part: yes, my core gets warmer as we begin to move. But the wind generated by pedaling brings me back to square one. I suspect this is the same for everyone. Nevermind. Lucille and I are delighted to be a part of this ride.
We head north west to Bay Ridge following well-marked bike lanes, stopping for a “show” on 22nd Street. The show consists of an elaborate set outside a private house, where two multi-colored totem poles, lip-sync their way through “Mele Kalikimaka” (courtesy of Der Bingle) as flamingos swirl and palm trees and parcels blink in accompaniment.
We head north west to Bay Ridge following well-marked bike lanes, stopping for a “show” on 22nd Street. The show consists of an elaborate set outside a private house, where two multi-colored totem poles, lip-sync their way through “Mele Kalikimaka” (courtesy of Der Bingle) as flamingos swirl and palm trees and parcels blink in accompaniment.
Everyone’s in show business.
Can you imagine going to all that trouble? But as a life-long musician, and New Yorker I have other considerations: did they license that music (of course not), and – what must it be like to be neighbors of someone like this who puts on “shows” with music this time of year? And most of all: where do they store all this stuff the rest of the time? These are questions which will only grow larger as the evening progresses.
The house decorations heat up as we hit 77th Street (still in Bay Ridge).
Can you imagine going to all that trouble? But as a life-long musician, and New Yorker I have other considerations: did they license that music (of course not), and – what must it be like to be neighbors of someone like this who puts on “shows” with music this time of year? And most of all: where do they store all this stuff the rest of the time? These are questions which will only grow larger as the evening progresses.
The house decorations heat up as we hit 77th Street (still in Bay Ridge).
I’m pretty amazed at all the work it must take to do this, but I’m told “Wait. This is nothing.”
Before heading over to Dyker Heights, we take our break at a diner.
Lucille and I are warmly welcomed by the diner’s host, and ushered back near the coat racks. For others this would be “Siberia.” But in our opinion, Siberia is where the other bikers are: standing out in the cold guarding their full sized rides (though some – like A - brought locks). A and I find our seats. Our other A, fearing theft, has made other arrangements. We warm up over tea and “French Onion Soup,” an activity that is fortunately more about holding a hot beverage than actually consuming it.
Before heading over to Dyker Heights, we take our break at a diner.
Lucille and I are warmly welcomed by the diner’s host, and ushered back near the coat racks. For others this would be “Siberia.” But in our opinion, Siberia is where the other bikers are: standing out in the cold guarding their full sized rides (though some – like A - brought locks). A and I find our seats. Our other A, fearing theft, has made other arrangements. We warm up over tea and “French Onion Soup,” an activity that is fortunately more about holding a hot beverage than actually consuming it.
Yeah, well nobody promised Haute Cuisine.
Finally, our group reassembles and we pedal a pedestrian overpass into Dyker Heights proper. We have been warned that it is the height of the Christmas season. That it is a total scene. We are cautioned to leave our bikes and take in the sights on foot. But we’re cyclists – that’s not happening.
The streets are clogged with cars.
Finally, our group reassembles and we pedal a pedestrian overpass into Dyker Heights proper. We have been warned that it is the height of the Christmas season. That it is a total scene. We are cautioned to leave our bikes and take in the sights on foot. But we’re cyclists – that’s not happening.
The streets are clogged with cars.
And many school buses stopping to ogle.
We ride easily through, taking in the sights as we go (sometimes it’s just better to be on a bike).
There are masses of pedestrians (we walk our bikes)...
There are lights...
There is music – everything from God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, to The 1812 Overture.
There are Santas.
There are Santas.
There are religious figures mixed up with Santas
There are carousels (see left).
There are Wizard of Oz Monkeys.
Nutcrackers and Tin Soldiers.
And whether or not they have anything to do with Christmas, they’re all here:
Hello Kitty and Mother Goose. Angels, candy canes, and Frosty the Snowman. The California Raisins, Sponge Bob Square Pants. In fact, there is every merchandizing graphic icon from the last 50 years, combined with equally iconic music all in one kitchy bouillabaisse. The only one who’s not there is Mickey (though perhaps I missed him).
If it weren’t for the cold (and the size of some of the Santas), I’m not even sure I could tell you what holiday this is. The height of it all for me is a balloon of Snoopy paddling in a jiggling canoe, to the accompaniment of banjos playing Foggy Mountain Breakdown (right of center).
If it weren’t for the cold (and the size of some of the Santas), I’m not even sure I could tell you what holiday this is. The height of it all for me is a balloon of Snoopy paddling in a jiggling canoe, to the accompaniment of banjos playing Foggy Mountain Breakdown (right of center).
What???
Omg, it is cold but it is glorious! Totally over the top. And so American: a celebratory conflation of religious and merchandizing iconography on a massive scale. What a ride! As to where they store it, I can’t speak for the residents of Bay Ridge who probably have to fend for themselves; but here between the signage and vans advertising the service, it is clear they order it – storage is someone else’s problem. So that answers that question at least. As to why, well you’d have to ask the homeowners. My guess is by now, it’s become a roaring competition.
To get home, we have the option of pedaling back to Grand Army Plaza or continuing forward for 20 blocks to the Fort Hamilton N train stop. A&A and I opt for this as the shorter route. Which is good because by now the batteries in my gloves have given out and my fingers have begun to ache. The stop is an outdoor one (with the obligatory crazy on the platform).
Omg, it is cold but it is glorious! Totally over the top. And so American: a celebratory conflation of religious and merchandizing iconography on a massive scale. What a ride! As to where they store it, I can’t speak for the residents of Bay Ridge who probably have to fend for themselves; but here between the signage and vans advertising the service, it is clear they order it – storage is someone else’s problem. So that answers that question at least. As to why, well you’d have to ask the homeowners. My guess is by now, it’s become a roaring competition.
To get home, we have the option of pedaling back to Grand Army Plaza or continuing forward for 20 blocks to the Fort Hamilton N train stop. A&A and I opt for this as the shorter route. Which is good because by now the batteries in my gloves have given out and my fingers have begun to ache. The stop is an outdoor one (with the obligatory crazy on the platform).
But the ride is direct and lets me out at 23rd and 6th. When I get home I check my phone: it’s 31˚.
I’m cold as hell but wouldn’t’ have missed this trip for the world. The ride, the night, the time of year, the lights, the crowds - the spirit. It’s nothing like the Christmases I spent with my mother. Or like any other Christmas activities I’ve done for that matter. But it’s totally great. Hooray for Christmas! Hooray for bikes!
It’s been an amazing year.
I’m cold as hell but wouldn’t’ have missed this trip for the world. The ride, the night, the time of year, the lights, the crowds - the spirit. It’s nothing like the Christmases I spent with my mother. Or like any other Christmas activities I’ve done for that matter. But it’s totally great. Hooray for Christmas! Hooray for bikes!
It’s been an amazing year.
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