THERE is nothing quite like gliding on two wheels as the wind is on your face. And so I decided to kick off my summer the other day by renting a bike and gliding through Central Park. The weather was just perfect. Pleasantly warm, but overcast enough so it was not too hot, but overcast enough to make you ride into the wind — as well as wonder when the first rain drop might come.
As I was riding along with my friend Hindy, gaining speed as I rotated between the hilly and flat terrain of the park, wheels spinning, I was overjoyed at the pleasures of summertime. Ah, the pleasure of that park.
As we bicycled through (the park is closed to traffic until four p.m.), it struck me that Central Park is like a little town unto itself. We passed by the posh and chic Tavern On the Green, the leisurely carriage rides with the natural music and rhythm of the clap of the horses hoofs beating the pavement, then heard the soaring music sounds of the California Philharmonic Orchestra rehearsing for its nighttime performance at Carnegie Hall that very night. We arrived at the outdoor musical theatre with its tall and half-moon like niche, the half dome covering the musicians protectively. Inscribed in the stone is: “For New York Residents And Her Music Lovers.”
Re-entering the bike paths we rode on. Now again, passing those carriage rides reminiscent of a time past, of an old world charm, we came to the grand fountain that is at the heart of the park. Like an enormous multitiered wedding cake, this bronzed winged sculpture stands atop a multitiered base, looking like it just landed or is poised to fly — its wings spread out behind her. The fountain is on high — looking down at us all standing around on the cobbled circumference of her home.
Then onto “The Ramble.” In contrast to the more elegant and manicured parts of the park, here the typography is a bit more natural. It rises a little higher, where the peddling is a little more intense, and it is a little more rocky. Leaving the wooded, secluded Ramble there is a lone guy at the side of the road, content to play a tune on a banjo.
There is the Swedish marionette theatre, a storybook-like cottage with adorable flower beds encircling it. It is now showing a version of “Peter Pan and Neverland,” as though the story were set in New York.
Now for the final stretch, on the road that parallels the bridal path — plain, non-stop biking, no charming distractions, just the wind on my face for a nice long while, right before I feel the wet poke of the first drop of an afternoon summer rain shower.
What are you doing to kick off your summer?
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