
Beauty
The most irritating thing cyclists do? Wear their helmets indoors, of course.
The most irritating thing cyclists do? Wear their helmets indoors, of course.
First comes confusion. Didn’t my bike have a back wheel? Then comes anger.
“Get the fuck out of the motherfucking lane, motherfucker!”
New York cyclists are a tribe. Within any tribe, there are distinctions. We parse our smallest differences and look down on one another, even as we look down on everyone else.
I’ve been in three bike wrecks in my three years in New York. I’m looking forward to my fourth.
A morning, a bicycle, a macchiato. Or five? This time, a sensible coffee shop tour. But in the end, it still may be described in only one way.
The plan: 10 cafés, 10 macchiatos, one morning, by bike. Embarking on an adventure that can be described in only one way.
They arrive on airplanes, in cars with colorful license plates, bearing camera equipment and unseasonable clothing. Welcoming our friends beyond the Hudson.
When appointments and schedules get in the way of travel plans, it’s easy to think of the summer as a lost cause. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Being a new father of two girls takes love, patience, and the wisdom not to attack other children in their defense.