I've been back from New York City for almost three weeks now, but I still can't get it out of my mind. First though, my apologies for the delay, I've been busy. Busy with work, busy getting all the footage together and not in the least diving right back into my cycle life, consisting of meeting and riding with people from different parts of the world. The journey. It's often said it's not the destination, but the journey that defines life. Before boarding the plane, that became apparent when I was stopped at customs. "Wow...ping!", said the officer, with a big smile on his face. "What's that, sir?" "I haven't seen that one before!", chuckling. "I'm intrigued now." "I have to stop you, sir, and technically arrest you." "Why's that?" "You have an outstanding traffic ticket for running a red light on your bicycle." "Huh? That's not possible. I mean, yes, I could have, but I pay all my tickets." "It says so right here. It's from 2006." "And that pops up only now?" "Apparently. So you'll have to pay. If you don't, I will have to detain you and you'll not be catching that flight." He looked up from his screen with the biggest grin on his face. "Of course I'll pay, I will sort it out with the police when I get back, it's clearly a mistake. How much is it?" "Thirty-nine Euros, sir." I made boarding just in time and 8 hours later I was on the train, moving closer to that little island called Manhattan.
The cab ride allowed me to sit back and have a look around, seeing people getting from A to B on a wet but humid Thursday afternoon.
From my Soho hotel I walked over to the smashing bike shop Adeline Adeline on Reade St. and picked up my borrowed ride for the weekend, a proper Workcycles Omafiets. It was the owner Julie's husband's bicycle, just my size, perfect.
Off I went, cruising the city, at a steady pace. You know, just like in Old Amsterdam. I felt right at home, yet again.