Magical Inwood

I left the house at 7:00 a.m. today armed with a messenger bag, snacks, and a wad of cash and headed to Inwood to check out a new bicyclette. After an hour spent with strangers whose sour breath matched their dispositions, I alighted at 181st street station and it took no time to realize that I was in another world. People were, how do I put this, friendly. I headed to the address of the woman who was selling the bike, and realized that I was going the wrong way. When someone who was sweeping outside the building saw me looking at a piece of paper with the address, he approached me and asked if I needed help. He advised me to climb up a long flight of concrete stairs (that's what the elevator in the station was all about!!!) and I would find the building there.

After trudging up about 100 steps, I was amazed at what stood before me. Just regular old buildings, I guess, built around the turn of the 20th century, but they were very different from my part of town. It took me a minute to realize that the difference was that they were clean. Things were tidy and clean! Order! AND, best of all--a view of the Hudson.

Still a bit in awe of what I was seeing, I met up with the seller of said bike, and she immediately offered a cup of tea. Then we sat and chatted for about three quarters of an hour and it was fantastic. I just couldn't help thinking that if she were not leaving, she would be someone I would like to know. We discussed the seedier side to non-profits and how somehow people often just self aggrandize when they work for them, thus becoming worse than the corporate machine. We finally looked at the bike, discussed why she had never ridden it (fear of mean streets), its travels with her (D.C. to Sydney to Inwood) and how she was going to spend the cash (Botox).

An hour later I left her building with bike in tow (I lurves it, I do!!!) and because I hadn't made any adjustments to the seat or anything, I chose to not ride it. This did not go unnoticed. The people of Inwood are fastidious and astute. One minute into my journey, a woman exiting her building called out to me, "Now, that's a good idea! A bike ride." She caught me up and we discussed the forecast. She then bid me a glorious day and turned down a nicely groomed street. I headed to the park near the subway station (Bike Seller gave me detailed directions on the ideal route back) where I was met by an older gentleman pushing a toddler in a stroller. The toddler wouldn't stop smiling. It was the happiest baby I have ever seen. Showing off it's two little Tic Tac teeth, it grinned and his courier said "That's a nice idea, taking the bike for a stroll are we?" I laughed (even my laugh sounds different in Inwood. It sounded lighthearted and gay, like that of a 50's starlet) and pointed out the need to set it up accordingly. Without missing a beat he retorted "Too right, you don't want to hurt your tush." TUSH. THEY SAY TUSH IN INWOOD!!!

The chatter didn't stop there. I got to the train and was heckled by a pack of MTA employees about taking the train. "Girl, you can't ride that?" "Look who's taking the bike for a ride...on the train." "That's gonna cost you extra!" It was all gentle ribbing and good fun. People were smiling. We laughed. Oh, how we laughed... It was bizarrely Utopian in feel, without the dullness and space age clothing. Birds were louder and more melodious. Colors were brighter. People on the train apologized to me for being in the way.

However, all good things must come to a screeching halt. As soon as I got to the Franklin Avenue shuttle station, the sky turned gray and overcast. No more smiles. Despite the fear of overwhelming dead hobo smell that seems to permeate every elevator on the MTA, I tried to take it to the top platform. Alas, I waited for several minutes, but nothing happened. So I hauled new bike up the stairs (thankfully, it's DX, which means "lite" in bikeese). Two people commented on the fact that I should just use the elevator, but their advice was cut short by a gruff man in an orange vest saying it was out of order. My easy morning was quickly morphing into a difficult afternoon. But things started to look up again when I pedaled up to my courtyard (that sounds so much nicer than it actually is. It's a slab of stone painted gray, littered with donut wrappers and fliers.) I have a new bike, and it rides like a dream.

Thanks, Inwood!