lets not be fair weather riders

There’s an old airport in remote Brooklyn, in between mainland Brooklyn and Far Rockaway, on the coast. The area is called the Floyd-Bennett Field.

Road bikes make the best transportation.

The amount of open space (and asphalt/concrete) feels a little overwhelming.

Despite the looming clouds, there were still people down at the tracks. The gas-driven R/C cars can corner with astonishing speed.

Apparently some of the airport is still functioning, on one of the more distant runways. “Yeah, take the picture, buddy.”

Jenn shows off the tight rake (the fixed distance the fork pushes the front wheel forward) on her new Miyata 10-speed.

In a nearby salt marsh area, we found an old car, burned beyond recognition. Brooklyn, NY.

• Last week, Leticia and I caught a performance of Sizwe Banzi is Dead over at BAM’s Harvey Theatre. Despite a minimal cast (2 people) and a minimal set (a table and a chair), it still came through, maintaining a compelling story. The title and story refer to the desperate measures taken to survive the apartheid system in South Africa. While the first few minutes are painfully dull, hang in to get to the segments with dead bodies and drunkenness. I understand the actors have said that this will be the very final performance.

• On Friday, Big Joseph, James, Jenn, and I saw a Loser’s Lounge Battle of the Bands show over at Joe’s Pub near Astor Place. Though the event felt a little bit 40+, you can’t hate on anything that involves comped tickets. The main event was a Duran Duran cover band versus a Cars cover band. There was a bizarre, skinny electro guy with angular hair who came in to do a song at one point for The Cars band, but regardless, Duran Duran won. Too many aging white people are into “Hungry Like the Wolf” it seems. Drinks are $$ at Joe’s, just an FYI. Afterwards we had a mediocre dinner over at B Bar down the street on Bowery.

Pam, Jenn, and I had another great brunch over at Cafe Mogador. Like with a lot of other East Village/Lower spots, getting there prior to noon most likely guarantees a table. Don’t sleep on the pita and hummus. Certainly don’t leave without a few poached eggs either.

• Yet another flat today caused me to go ahead and pick up an armadillo for my rear wheel today at the beginning of my commute home this evening. The ride is a little bit stiffer, but from many people I’ve heard that they’re boomproof: a quality that is handy when riding through a terrorism-targeted city.

• Sunday night, Moses and Cory hosted a dinner party over in the Hook, complete with lasagna, a melon & prosciutto heavy salad (from Jenn and I), beer, wine, bread, and some f-ing solid olive oil and balsamic vinegar from Fairway (arguably the one staple of the Hook, as a neighborhood is as only as good as it’s grocery store). Davis, Lehman, and Calloway also made it out, and we started to run out of poles to lock to out front.

• “In hindsight, I don’t want to be like the people I’ve liked.” – The Death Set.