Then, on Friday April 16, after an excellent meeting with Andy Baldwin in College Park, and then some time with Travis and Mary, I went to the airport to pick up my brother Chris. He had been in Peru. It was great to see him, and to be the first to welcome him back to US, and hear about all the incredible things that he saw and did on his South American adventures. Peru sounded beautiful and amazing.
And on that car ride home, Chris and I were planning some more adventures. There's always more adventures to plan. Yes, indeed. Time for a New York City mission--two brothers bound for the City. We had both been in touch with Kyle, who had moved his base camp from Santa Cruz back to his hometown borough of Queens. Originally, Chris and I were going to visit Kyle in May. But May was getting hectic. And Chris just started a new job in Virginia. And I just started some part time work of my own, so we had to take action. The mission was planned for the following weekend.
I left for New York on a Thursday morning, caught the bus in Baltimore. I had been up very late the night before (a crazy travel tradition I seem to always be continuing); I was packing and getting things in order. I had my Lonely Planet NYC book from the library. A good book that I was going to buy for myself as soon as I had some money to spare. By this point in the friending mission, the budget was very tight. I had lots of food in my backpack. I also had one of Travis and Hilary's folding bikes. It was packed neatly in a big black duffel bag. (The other bike was packed and ready for Chris, so he could grab it and go.)
The bus rolled north, to New York--a city which I discovered late in life, but one that's gone straight to my heart and right to the top of my list, right up there with sweet San Fran. And while I'm listing cities, Washington D.C. must get an honorable mention too. D.C. is very close to home and very powerful and important and full of many incredible places, which I really should write some more about one of the days. . . . when the time is right, Jeff, when the time is right.
New York is so close! A few easy bus hours and I was there. I ate the first of my pb and j sandwiches (it was the one with sriracha on it) as the bus was rolling down one of the Avenues, down to 33rd street, I believe, where we stopped and everyone got off. I put the bike together and I was on my way, riding north up 8th Ave. I didn't even need to check my map. I was feeling cocky like I had been living in the city for years. I knew about the avenues and the streets because I had walked the length of Manhattan and also because I had spent a long time just studying NYC maps. I had a love for New York, that huge hulking American city, and I was happy to be back.
I was soon in Central Park, sitting there by Sheep Meadow, which was our agreed upon meeting point. Kyle was biking in from Queens. I was happy to sit there and rest. It had been a late night and an early morning in a string of such days. Going hard and fast with the books, trying to get a lot of work done so I could feel good about taking off for a few days. That's one problem when you love your work: it can be hard to be away from it. But little breaks are good, and excuses are easy to give in to. And once I reminded myself that I was in New York for research, well then I had nothing to worry about. I pulled the notebook and pen out from my breast pocket and started writing. There's always something to write about.
I sat on the benches at the west side of Sheep Meadow, right by West Side Road, just watching the Parade go by. And it was a fine parade and it wasn't even Saturday. Kyle knew all about my parade lingo and descriptive theories because he had read a draft of my book, and he always liked to sprinkle those Jeff quotes into daily conversation which just tickled me and activated my smile hinges. And Chris too, he knew. Kyle and Chris and I shared many days and nights on the road, bike-tour-style, and that does something to a friendship. It roots it down deep, deep and solid in the nutrients of life and time. And soon Chris would be there with us--I couldn't wait!--and we'd be riding the streets of New York together. Brothers and friends, out for a jaunt or two or three, in one of the most amazing cities ever dreamed up by the hearts and hands and minds of human beings.
But it was Thursday and Chris wasn't arriving until late Friday night. So I met Kyle, and we rested in Sheep Meadow (where there actually used to be sheep; the Old Days are very interesting), and we made our plans: we had a big day of biking around the city. But first we had to go to the John Lennon Imagine Memorial in Strawberry Fields. There's just certain places in certain cities I have to go to every time I'm there. Simply have to. In San Fran it's Haight St. and Golden Gate Park and The Golden Gate Bridge. In New York, it's Central Park, Strawberry Fields, and Greenwich Village and south Manhattan too--and the Upper East Side is always on my mind thanks to Warren Zevon. I told Kyle this and he understood. There's so much to see in New York. And after a little whiskey toast ("To you and me and New York City," I said), and then some "Eyes of the World," we were ready to move.
Over to the Lennon Memorial. Just one word: Imagine. One word with a million and one possibilities. It's a powerful place. The current flower arrangement was looking beautiful, some big red roses and also some pink and yellow petals spread in a Peace Sign formation around the IMAGINE. From there we headed west, to the bike trail along the Hudson, and we followed that south. South for a while. Then we cut over on Perry Street and into the Village. Washington Square Park and then lots more riding: over to the bike path along the east side of Manhattan Island. Then south. We took the Staten Island Ferry--why not?--and enjoyed the free ride. They had bike racks, but the view was better outside, so we took our bikes out with us, but then we got scolded and they said we couldn't have the bikes out there. But the views were great; we saw the Statue of Liberty from many different angles, and the tall buildings of Manhattan, looking good.
After the ferry ride, we stood there, outside the Staten Island station, watching all the commuters flowing by. Another grand parade. We drank water, good cold water from the fountains inside the station. I broke out my last pb and j sandwich and Kyle and I split it. It was the one with coffee beans in it. The beans had softened a bit, and it was good. Kyle liked it. I did too. I love to mix weird flavors, spice it up, keep it weird. Food, bread, so good! Later, some dollar-slices, bought on the street, a good snack, but I was really looking forward to Dani's House of Pizza, a place I had been looking forward to for almost eight months. Dani's was coming. But first: more biking, riding in the bike lanes, on the busy streets and the side streets, then the bridges, Brooklyn Bridge over to Brooklyn, then back on Manhattan Bridge. Then north through Manhattan Island, Kyle leading the way on our Journey back to Queens. We crossed the Queensborough Bridge, and at this point my body was getting sore from that bike with one gear, a new bike, a bike I wasn't used to riding. But soreness is good; it means you're out there working, moving, living. Kyle led the way back to his home, a great night ride. We took the scenic way. And then a stop at Dani's House of Pizza, where the pizza was better and sweeter and more incredible than I ever imagined. I ate one slice. Each bite was joyful perfection. And then another slice--I had to. And then a few blocks back to Kyle's, up the stairs and into his apartment where I emptied my pockets and got ready for some deeply-needed rest. Slumber came and I didn't mind the city sounds for they meant me no harm.
Friday morning and some noshing and then we were on our way. Another big day. First riding west to get to Ozone Park and make a stop at the place where Jack Kerouac and his mother had once lived, in the little apartment that's above a flower shop. It was easy to find with the Internet. I loved being there, loved every second and minute of the whole occasion. And Kyle humored me in my goals and desires--the sign of a good friend. This would be the first of many literary/artistic stops that I planned out. So many places to pay tribute to in New York. Then we rode east toward the ocean. Me cruising on the folding bike, which I enjoyed even though it was just one gear (something I wasn't used to). "One gear. One city. One love," that's what I kept saying. Just a little mantra to help me up the hills of life, which weren't that bad; they never are. And Kyle was riding his regs, his A-rig, the bike he had ridden across the country the previous summer with my brother; the rig now had big "mamacitas," large tires that Kyle was quite proud of, good tires for riding pretty much anywhere. It's good to be proud of your rig, whatever it may be. We switched bikes and enjoyed the different feel of each other's rigs. Rockaway was a great place to get some sitting and looking done. Just sitting on the boardwalk and looking out at the waves and the surfers, and Kyle knew all about the breaks because he had surfed there many times. But his board was back in his home. Which is where we headed. We needed to get more food and prepare for the evening mission.
I had a big list of famous people places that I wanted to see: Kerouac, Ginsberg, Hunter Thompson, Bob Dylan, and some other famous bars and buildings and places. So I got the addresses online and plotted a course, a big loop which would start somewhere in Chelsea and take us south, into the Village, then north back toward 33rd Street, near Madison Square Garden where we were going to meet Chris. But after already riding twenty or thirty miles, we decided to leave the bikes and do the mission on foot, which was fine with me. It can be hard to be on a bike, taking photos, reading maps, looking around, drinking beers and all that. So we got our beers, Ballantine Ale (which I was very pleased to find at nearby Joy Fruit!), and boarded the Subway. Kyle knew where we were going, but I checked the map anyway. I had to learn these things! And you must study to learn! My cold beer was gone before the ride was over. It's easy to drink cold beer when you're thirsty and hungry for the wild world of the city! And I was ready to walk. Up the stairs and into the night! Early night which I love so much because there is still a blueness to the sky, and if you work the camera right you can capture this great blue sky, which I tried to do. And the city lights were coming on fast and strong, but it was hard to focus until we found a bathroom. So we dropped into the closest Starbuckian Dynasty and used the one-room bathroom. And then we were off, following my map.
I don't know if I'm ready to tell about all the places we went, maybe not right now--"Not this one, Claus," as Kyle, Chris, and I liked to say. (A little Wes Anderson quote there, for those keeping score.) But in the end it was a great walking mission--so great!--and Kyle and I came upon the High Line, which we of course had to walk on. And at McSoreley's we got some beer and met some girls and our time there was so fun that we almost lost track of time and so we had to zoom north like crazy birds to meet Chris. And we met him and he had already put his bike together (the other folding bike that I had borrowed from Travis and Hilary) but I had the tools in my jacket to finish the job and attach the derailleur. "What's that smell?" asked Chris when I was standing near him. "Probably all the garlic I ate earlier," I said. I forgot to mention that Kyle and I split a whole head of garlic with dinner. I don't know, it was like 8 or 9 cloves each, a rather large head of garlic. Kyle is a man who's not afraid of his food, and neither am I--so this kind of thing was just bound to happen, and we didn't really even need to explain this to Chris. Raw garlic consumption was a bike tour tradition. Yes, it does burn. But it burns less if you're used to it, and if you have the right state of mind, and of course it's good for you, which is the bottom line. With only 2.25 dollars and the right Subway knowledge, we made it back to Kyle's. The end of another day. And . . . more Dani's Pizza! Yes!
Saturday was our big day of biking, the only full day that we were all going to share. Chris and I had tickets to leave the next day. So Saturday was the big day, which started with a big meal--great bagel noshing--and I was so excited about getting out there and riding. We met one of Kyle's friends and rode with him into Manhattan, going through Queens and then Brooklyn. It was a great and sunny day, and Kyle and Chris were singing a bit of reggaeton, which we had heard from a passing car, happy bouncy music, music which was also a foreshadowing of the mission that was ahead of us: I figured we might as well ride the whole length of Manhattan Island, from the south all the way up through the Spanish barrios up north. I walked it, and now I wanted to bike it. It seemed like a good mission, and on the way we could see all the places we wanted to see, and spend some more time in Central Park.
So that's pretty much what we did. We went down to Battery Park, on the south part of Manhattan Island, which was pretty crowded on a sunny spring Saturday. And I enjoyed the way I could stand tall on my bike and look over the crowds of people. Chris could do this too. We called it high-tower mode, or tallboys. It was fun. Rolling slow through crowds of people, moving quick through the open gaps, then hitting the breaks for more slow-moving people negotiations. That's really a word I like to use in my city talk and writings. Negotiations. At this point, Chris and I had switched bikes. So I actually had a few gears in the back, and it was Chris who had to deal with "One gear, one city, one love." But he could ride--man, could he ride! All that pent up cycling energy being unleashed with trademark CM power! I didn't have to worry about Chris. And Kyle's friend could ride too; he was on a racing type road bike. And after a little Wall Street exploration, we started riding north, up through SoHo, then across Houston, and then the cross streets were just flying by. In many places, we were faster than the cars. There was all kinds of weekend traffic that we maneuvered right through. But we passed an accident scene and saw a man on the ground, bleeding. A big reminder about safety. Enjoy the flow and the velocity, but BE ON GUARD. So that's what we did. Over to 8th Ave. where we flew north in the bike lane on the left side of the road. Then into Central Park, where we said goodbye to Kyle's friend and did some more backpack noshing--really just a little snack nosh. The sky was looking like rain, but I got the team inspired. "We're in the 70's now, so we only have like 150 more streets to go! Let's go!" And we went. Over to the east side road in Central Park. Then north, Central Park miles being very fast and easy and I was of course reminded of Golden Gate Park which is similar in many ways to Central Pk. The top of Central Park was 110 St. "We're halfway there!" I said. "Only 115 more streets to go!" At this point I took the lead; I knew the area better than Kyle. And we rode. Over to Broadway and then north. I knew Broadway was the road for us. A big Saturday night concert at Columbia University drew us in. And we stayed there for a time. But we still had miles to ride, and it was getting later. And none of the bands had the power to ensnare us. North! Broadway! Into the great barrios that I remembered walking through, Spanish neighborhoods where all the signs were in Spanish. Kyle found a good HIT (hole in the . . . wall) and we stopped for food, exactly what we needed to finish the mission out. More city night riding. Cars on the road, pumping out the raggaeton into the night. I worked my camera hand whenever I could, but the riding was serious and I put the camera away. Our taillights and headlights were blinking. I had some neon green on the back of my rig. We were visible and safe; it's the only way when you're following the Code of the Road.
And then, eventually, we hit the top of the island: the Harlem River. We crossed the river and rode into the Bronx and stopped at a fast food place for bathrooms and just general mapping and whatnot. I was so happy to be there. I waited outside with the bikes. I could wait forever on the streets of New York. I felt at home there. From here on out, we made various negotiations: Subway back to midtown, then back to Queens. The next day, some more time in the city and then Chris and I were on the bus, bound for Maryland. But right now, I think I want to leave ya'll with a photo that I took on the Henry Hudson Bridge, at the very top of Manhattan, after we had just gotten there, and we were all relieved that the mission had worked out. It was a great mission! As the cars were rolling past and vibrating the bridge, I set up my camera and took the following photo. Thanks again, Chris and Kyle. It's not everyday that you go on a great city jaunt with your brother and a fellow road friend, and ride the whole length of that splendid island known as Manhattan.
