New York City is home to many exotic animals, such as the so-called “peafowl,” which is of course native to the Bronx and Central Park Zoos:
We came upon this stunning display last Friday. Note the bemusement of the peahen as the peacock attempts to woo her with his voluminous plumage. Every so often the peacock would also shake his feathers rapidly, emitting an intimidating sound not unlike that of a rattlesnake. He’d also turn to us periodically as if to say, “Don’t even think about it, she’s mine.”
It’s hard to watch such a display and not consider how much of human endeavor can be dismissed as simple peacockery. Consider for example the roadies who parade up and down 9W, resplendent in their Lycra finery and dancing pompously upon the pedals of their crabon bicycles. Even those of us who ostensibly eschew such behavior and fancy ourselves above (or at least beyond) the Realm of Fredness are just as flashy in our own way:
Waxed canvas and cloth tape is our plumage, and we ratchet our friction shifters defensively when we feel threatened by the disc brake set.
You know, if I had a bunch of spare parts I’d totally build up one of those…
…though of course my A. Homer Hilsen lends itself perfectly to mixed-terrain rambling:
You know something? It’s taken me awhile to appreciate it fully, but the riding in the greater New York City metropolitan area is really, really good! However, besides not having a real job, the key to taking maximum advantage of it is to live on the mainland instead of one of those silly island boroughs where you’ve got to ride to two hours just to break free from the street grid. Here you can practically roll out of bed and right into the woods:
Sometimes it turns out you’ve got everything you need right in your own backyard–even if you don’t even have your own backyard.
Finally, this past weekend I was Just Riding Along on my vintage titanium Fred Sled when I heard the impatient whining of a small gas motor behind me. I thought maybe it was someone ripping around the streets on a dirt bike or something, but I was soon overtaken by one of those RC cars being followed closely by a German sports sedan:
I didn’t get a look inside the car, but clearly either the driver or the passenger was driving the RC car around from the car, which seems not unlike riding your actual bike while watching your Zwift avatar on a handlebar-mounted screen.
Those peacocks have nothing on us.