Trek 520

I had been working in the Times Square district for four years. As I stated in the previous blog post, the Broadway Project was all grant-funded, and my bosses were penny pinchers of the highest order. They never gave me money for bus or subway tokens, so I walked everywhere in the city when I had to run company errands. As a result, I knew every store from Washington Square to Columbus Circle, from the Harlem River to the Hudson. I walked from 44^th Street and 6^th Avenue to 49^th Street and 9^th Avenue on auto-pilot.

“Can I help you?” two salesmen asked simultaneously.

Lee looked like he had just parked his Harley Davidson out back. Every square inch of skin that I could see was covered in tattoos, and he was wearing leather-studded bracelets and knuckle rings. Carlos looked like he had just finished a stage of the Tour de France.

“I want to buy a bicycle,” I said to Carlos.

“What kind of bicycle do you want to buy?” he asked.

“I want to ride my bike across the country,” I answered.

That was the answer to my questions. When was the last time I felt good about myself? When was the last time I felt like I knew who I was, and was proud to be that person? The answers were simple- when I was riding my bike.

And just like that I was the proud owner of a 1991 Trek 520 Touring Bike. I still have it. It’s hanging in my garage. Juli rode it when she first started riding with me in Tarrytown, and now Ben rides it. I’ve bought about 15 bikes since 1991, but I will never get rid of that bike!

“Can I come back in a few hours to pick it up?” I asked Carlos.

“Yes, it will be ready at 6 p.m.”

I returned to my office at 44^th Street, grinning from ear to ear. I hadn’t felt that light, that free of myself in 10 years. I wrote earlier about some of the pivotal decisions that have shaped my life. Marrying Juli has to rank as #1 all time. That decision to buy a bicycle on that April 1991 day has to be #2. No doubt about it! Truthfully, though, if I hadn’t bought that bike in 1991, I doubt I would have been man enough to date, fall in love, and then marry Juli. So in a way buying that bike was even more pivotal than marrying Juli. That bike, though, is not such a good kisser, and can’t raise my children, so I guess I will keep the ranking as is. Juli #1, Bike #2.

I returned to the bike shop at 6 p.m. In addition to the bike, I also bought a helmet, gloves, shorts, a jersey, socks, shoes, a pump, and extra tubes. I had them install a bike rack on the back, and I bought panniers (bags that attach to the bike racks for overnight gear, change of clothes, etc). I went into the shops’ bathroom to change out of my suit and into my new bike clothes. I rolled up the damn suit, shirt, and tie and stuffed them into the panniers.

I asked Carlos, “How the hell do I bike from here to Astoria?”

“Very carefully,” he responded.