Today’s ride took me whizzing down the hill, around the circle, and over to Fort McHenry, a brief stop for a sandwich and some froyo, courtesy of a gift card from A. It was surprisingly warm and sunny today, which meant only two layers, no gloves or hat, and an unzipped jacket–it’s practically summer again! But it’s not, so the streets were almost empty, and I only had to dodge the trucks putting up Christmas lights rather than gaggles of clueless pedestrians as I did my ride around the harbor. Continue reading
Oh, what a beautiful day for a bike ride on Thursday! The sun was out between the frothy layers of clouds, I had finished my work for the day, and I had nowhere to be but on the bike. I headed down the hill toward the Inner Harbor bike/ped path, took my right turn to pedal around, and then headed up to Fort Avenue and the slight downhill to Locust Point for a ride around Fort McHenry. I’ve done this ride so many times at this point, but I still remember the first time–it seemed so far away. Continue reading
Tuesday’s bike ride took me to Locust Point, but I took a different route than I usually do. Usually I take Guilford down and up to the Inner Harbor bike/ped path around and up through Federal Hill, but on Tuesday, the very last thing I wanted to do was dodge pedestrians. I took Maryland Avenue down instead, dodging the cars turning on Franklin/40 and merging into one lane on that steep hill at Saratoga. I love taking all the lanes in this part of just-west downtown because there aren’t quite so many cars and besides, it’s just the safest way to travel. Continue reading
I woke up to a cloudy, cool, and windy fall Saturday, and oh, it felt good. N. asked if I might want to spend the afternoon with our books out at Fort McHenry–I could ride my bike and meet her, and she’d drive with a blanket, pillows, and some bottles of water. I looked up at the gray skies and felt the breeze and thought, YES, GREAT IDEA. Because in spite of the look of the weather, I really, really wanted to ride my bicycle. Continue reading
N. planted three clues about where to meet her Friday night, and she told me to ride my bike there. I did a little sleuthing by way of the internet to figure out that I was supposed to be at 1121 Hull Street, so after a day of lazing and working I carried Brompty down the stairs, put air in her tires, and headed down the hill–that way I could fold up my bike and toss it in the trunk of N.’s car and let her drive me back up the hill.
It was another gray day in Baltimore, and as soon as I got on the bike I felt raindrops. They weren’t the kind of raindrops that stayed–those would come later–and it felt good to just be flying down the hill in less than full summer heat. I rode down, took my left and my right, dodged some mail trucks, took another left and a right, and I was retracing familiar steps. I thought about why these familiar steps are never in the west–I blame MLK (the street, not the man)–and then I parked my bike and ate the kind of breakfast that you know you’re supposed to think is amazing, but really you shouldn’t have to ask that many times for a biscuit that’s more like a very, very plain crumbly muffin with jam that just doesn’t hold up. On my way I stopped to snap this picture of construction in Fells Point. It’s almost time to pour the cement, I think, the ground traced with steel bars. There are cranes in the sky down here. Every time I see cranes in the sky, I remember that’s what they said about New Orleans–there would be cranes in the sky, but that didn’t happen. Something else is happening there now. I walked down to the pier, sat and watched the water taxi come and go, and then it was back on the bike to the Inner Harbor and around to Locust Point for a couple of errands before a speedy trip home. Those last few miles were my favorite of the day, up and down, up and down, hitting my stride, waving my hellos.
Oh, I needed today. I woke up late and lazed about in bed with cats, gathering that vacation day vibe. I had a lovely long lunch with R. and O., eating dosa and talking about the layers of history and memory everywhere, the messages sent by trees about where matters and who doesn’t, and arranging our next meetings–why not have a meeting tubing on a river, O. asked? Sometimes you find the right people, and oh, it feels lucky. Afterward it was finally time to take the bike out for a ride. I zipped down the hill, fast as could be, and then up and around and up and down and up again to Fort McHenry. Continue reading