I bought my single speed Wabi classic in August of the year 2013. It has been my bedrock commuting bicycle since then with its low maintenance character. The Wabi’s Continental Gatorskin tires have over 2000 miles of NYC streets on them. I thought I should start here: the experiential, the empirical, the lived experience of moving through space on two wheels or two feet. 

I was the 881^st cyclist to ride over the Manhattan Bridge today according to the DOT’s display. The Manhattan bridge is the less glamorous sibling to the Brooklyn Bridge. They both serve as the steel gateways to the second largest borough, inviting the first and the last of the work day into the city of Brooklyn. I will return in darkness. The shorter days of NYC winters make bicycling commuting less inviting, requiring an extra ounce of commitment. Now into my fifties, I often opt for the subway. Today was different. Today I wanted to start writing. I wanted to begin somewhere and I thought about Holly Martins and his failures as writer and as a discerning, scrutinizing peer of Harry Lime. Yet if you have to choose between Harry and Holly, well, it is always Holly. Harry lingers on though. His story is the one of fleeting allure and the ordinary brutalism of unfettered capitalism.  These are the things to avoid.

So back to the story. I watch the sun set over New York Harbor. I can see the Brooklyn Bridge from my office window, enticing me home. I brought lights. I am ready for what comes next.