Wednesday, October 8, 2014

The Park at night, is the fountain of youth.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

"So how did you get into bikes?"

"Same way most girls do -- boys."

Friday, October 3, 2014


Me: "I'll come visit when the season slows down."

Dad: "The season's not allowed to slow down!"

Tuesday, September 30, 2014


To say I ride a lot at night is an understatement. Probably half my miles this summer were at night. Surprisingly, I'm not usually afraid, even (especially?) in the Park. But sometimes I get spooked. Why? Oh, I see a low-flying funky-shaped airplane through the half-fog and I start thinking about UFOs. And when that happens I hightail it home.

It happened tonight.

Dunkin Donuts

Yesterday a family of Argentinian tourists came into the shop.

"Just looking."


Two minutes later: "Where is Dunkin Donuts? We are looking for Dunkin Donuts."


"We want coffee, and doughnuts!"

We sent them to Brooklyn Roasting Company. Even though Brooklyn Roasting has discontinued glass drinking vessels -- still, paper trumps styrofoam.

Monday, September 29, 2014

The Envie in the dark

Tonight on the Envie in the dark, on Flushing all the lights were green for me, and the bicycle zipped up all my fear and frustration and my big mouth, it zipped them all up and then it kept going, up Vanderbilt it sang, through the green smudge of Park, the crickets, the drizzle, and home home home, no words, just pedal bones connected to leg bones connected to heart bones.

The bus, the bus!

On my way to work today, a school bus tried to run me off the road, on what is usually a quiet side street in Ditmas Park. A school bus. Trusted by parents to ferry their children to school.

Later in the same commute, on Vanderbilt, I realized there was a red doubledecker tour bus right behind me. Heart thumping, I held my line in the center of the lane, hoping he wouldn't try to pass me. (There were lots of double-parked cars in the opposite lane.)

The bus stayed slow, pulled up next to me at the red light. The driver opened the door.

"Getting some exercise?" he said in a jolly voice, making a jogging motion with his arms.

"Thank you for not killing me," is all I could say.

When the light turned green I let him go in front of me.