It was supposed to rain, but somehow the sun came out to make it super-hot. People are out in force when it’s sunny in NYC. Especially French-speaking peoples for some reason. Sage insisted that we “were totally gonna do something.” She huffed when I didn’t seem too enthused. My problem was that she had no idea what we were going to do. There were a million choices, and that’s just too many choices. I had choice fatigue. I told her that I would meet up with her somewhere. She wasn’t impressed You see, Sage had Don-fatigue. This drove her to promptly leave to drop our laundry off and then head to whatever Sage-y adventure she could stumble into.
I left the apartment approximately 5 minutes after she had left. It was clear to me now what I had to do: I had to find some of those e-bikes that citi-bike puts out from time to time. The biggest issue is that you will find a citi-bike station that has them on the app, but when you get close some miscreant has stolen the e-bike right out from under you. Their normal bikes are ok in a pinch, but who wants to cruise around the city on a normal bike like some loser. I got a case of the zoomies, a need for speed, if you will. I have a fever and the only cure is tearing up the streets on one of those citi-bike e-bikes.
I found 1 one of these amazing machines at 85th and Central Park West. I hustled my bustle on over to stake my claim. Sage called. Apparently she wanted in on the action too. After snatching my miracle machine from the rack, I turned it around to venture all the way to 77th to stake a claim for Sage. Passersby had no idea what that navy blue blur was that whizzed down Central Park West. Sage knew it was me because I was going “too fast.” (As if there was such a thing) It’s a good thing I got to the 77th Street citi-bike station when I did. There were 5 e-bikes and they were going like hot-cakes. I stood next to the e-bike that I wanted Sage to get. There were a group of French folk eyeing what would be Sage’s ticket to adventure. I barked at them ferociously. Pretty sure they got the message.
Sage took her sweet time getting there. (She stopped to get a strawberry refresher from Starbucks so I’m guessing it was pretty sweet.) She promptly gave me all of the things she was carrying so she could concentrate on removing her e-bike from the rack. I promptly dropped her strawberry refresher because I ain’t no cup holder. Sage’s response was to let out a loud yelp. At this point no one noticed. Guess they just thought it was common sense. If you got too close to the man who was barking you might just get bit. (Or lose your strawberry refresher)
We took the e-bikes directly into Central Park. What a glorious ride it was. Weaving in and out of biker and walker traffic making our way on the main road that winds completely around the park. I’ve been to Central Park more times than I could count but the whole time I couldn’t help but think how much bigger Shelby Farms is than Central Park. I stopped briefly to let Sage catch up. She was probably half a mile behind me. I used this time to start an activity on my Garmin watch. I needed to know how fast I was rolling. After catching up, Sage and I made our way through the rest of the park. We hurriedly had to return our bikes to a citi-bike rack. You’re only supposed to have them out for 30 minutes. We pushed the limits a bit.
Sage and I kicked back on a park bench outside the park plotting our next move and sharing a Snapple. Sage told a woman that she “loved her sunglasses” only to realize that the lady had no idea what Sage was talking about. The lady no-speaks the English. There was also a guy that looked just like Mr. Bean with long frizzy hair. What a unibrow. Wowzers.
A quick walk west took us towards Broadway where we took in a few shops. Most of the shops were too cheap to turn on any A/C yet. Waiting on Sage outside with the sun beating down on me I knew it had to be at least 90 degrees. I checked my phone: NYC 72 degrees. My body had become too accustomed to the single digit cold weather. Now I was sweating great drops of lumberjack sweat in the April heat thinking about the warm days to come. New York City isn’t supposed to get this warm. I’m pretty sure there’s a law or something about it.
……To Be Continued