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May 18, 2005
The Last Night in Eden
NEW YORK, NY -- May 18
Crossing over the Brooklyn Bridge into the early evening din of Manhattan was probably the second most iconic milestone of the trip, second perhaps only to crossing the Florida state line. Both brought a sense of "I never thought I'd make it here on this bike" awe to complement the generally appealing scenery. But getting to that moment required first getting through the entire state of New Jersey and the occasionally moto-intimidating New York City boroughs of Staten Island and Brooklyn.
All told, it was a great and largely stress-free journey for a day's work. The morning began with a ride on the Cape May - Lewes ferry that connects the Delaware Beaches to the southernmost tip of New Jersey. I made it there before the 9:30 crossing with plenty of time to spare, which gave me ample opportunity to explore the area before boarding. This was an altogether different operation than the NC ferries I took in the Outer Banks; serving a much denser and more touristy area, the ferry boat here was massive compared to its Carolina cousins. It was also much faster, with the capability of crossing the Delaware Bay in barely over an hour.
The ship boasted 4 layers of decks in additon to the 'ground' deck onto which the cars and smattering of bikes were parked. During evening runs in peak season, the 3rd floor deck lounge has a full service bar and warm appetizers. On this morning, only the 2nd floor cafeteria was open serving an microwave-it-yerself array of sub-continental sludgy offerings. I contented myself with terrible coffee and a surprisingly passable bagel as I explored every level of the ship during the ride.
Around the halfway mark of the ship, I was treated to one of the greatest sights of the trip when the Captain announced there were dolphins swimming around the boat. The next twenty minutes was spent gleefully watching fins and tails briefly emerge 40 yards out from the ship, and failing miserably to catch any of it on my slow digital camera. I had no idea dolphins ever ventured anywhere near New Jersey, making this an educational experience as well.
Upon disembarking the ship and riding off down US 9 for gas, I realized I've never been in "full service only" NJ before with a bike. Fortunately, most gas station attendants have a policy of letting the biker pump their own while they handle the credit card processing. It still means grappling with that annoying accordion-plastic adapter that is on almost every Jersey gas pump and makes aiming in the bike's tank next to impossible, of course.
I quickly got away from US 9 in favor of finding the road that would take me through all the famous beach towns. A few twists and turns later I was headed over the bridge into the Wildwood area. The great thing about these Jersey shore towns, which would hold through most of the day until I got halfway up the state, is that they are all deserted during a weekday morning. Wildwood was almost like a ghost town, which made it a necessity to dismount and take some pictures of the eerily empty boardwalk and silent rollercoaster park.
Of course, this also meant all the enticing little "pancake houses" that dotted every block were also deserted and closed. Hence, I pushed further North in hopes of finding something open in another town. Each of the Sourthern Jersey shore towns are like pockets of developed shore islands connected by a series of rickety toll causeways that go over the marshes. Note that I am sticking to peculiar Jersey convention and never using "beach" to describe the Shore. And since one only goes "down the shore", I had no real acceptable words to describe my journey up it.
After a few causeways, I ended up in Ocean City. This is the one town I do vaguely remember from my youth, as my parents would regularly rent a place here once every Summer. I was way too young to recall any landmarks or worthwhile diners, but the course straight down Central Ave revealed an open cheesesteak counter. I simultaneously realized a cheesesteak would hit the spot right about then. I promptly ordered a "wit", which arrived promptly thereafter. Even with the oddity of serving theirs on a round roll rather than the standard Philly Amaroso sub, it was divine. Just what I needed before hitting the road with renewed strength.
Even though I was making great time and had no reason to get to New York City any earlier than 6 when my friend Cedric would be home from work, I decided to avoid Atlantic City altogether and head inland to rejoin with US 9. This proved to be a wise decision, as it got me around the few bits of gray cloud I saw all day, and provided the best time of day to venture onto the stretch of Garden State Parkway one must use to follow US 9 past Great Bay. By 2:30 pm I was already in Little Egg Harbor.
The plan from here was to follow US 9 to Tom's River, and then peel off on NJ 37 towards the strip of North Jersey shores where I could once again avoid the insanity of Central NJ and hug the oceanfront as much as possible. While there were no weekday ghost towns up here and the traffic was consistently dense, it was never too much to handle or overheat Diana. I inched ever closer to South Amboy, where the heavy-duty portions of this trip would begin in earnest.
I made one last stop in the extremely pleasant downtown of Red Bank for coffee and engine cool-down before heading right into the thick challenges ahead. I had planned to take the Victory Bridge (NJ 35) rather than the much wider and busier Edison Bridge (Garden State Parkway) to get over the channel separating the Amboys. But the signs and lane shifts proved too tricky and did their job of persuading most traffic to use the super slabs. This rewarded me with the extremely amusing sight of going over the almost empty northbound lanes of the Garden State Parkway while watching traffic stopped to a standstill on the 4 southbound lanes of commuters trying to get the early jump on rush hour. Fortunately, the exit for the 440 extension loomed immediately ahead, so I was off the Parkway almost as soon as I was on it and for the second time that day avoided having to actually pay a toll in the chain of booths that dots random points of this odd expressway.
The ancient cantilevers of Outerbridge Crossing were soon directly in front of me, and there was no avoiding THIS toll of $5 even for wee motorcycles. Unlike its northern twin the Goethals Bridge, this thankless entryway into Staten Island has been repaved in the last dozen years and made for surprisingly smooth going. I was now in my home state, though still quite far from home.
The rationale behind using Staten Island was essentially a decision that dealing with the Verrazano Bridge and Brooklyn was overall a better journey than dealing with the New Jersey Turnpike and the Holland Tunnel. Even with some patches of traffic that had me in neutral for minute-long stretches on the I-278, I was soon on the daunting Verrazano Bridge. I used the lower deck where the trucks are not allowed, which also helped somewhat with crosswinds. Much like the Sunshine Skyway and Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel, I think I had set myself up for much worse.
Alas, much worse came soon enough in the form of Brooklyn's charming 4th Ave, which had been graded down to the bumpy sub-tar street bedding in hopes of a future fresh paving. A classic example of a street that made sense on paper as the double-wide timed-light promenade through western Brooklyn towards its downtown hub, but whose reality was only discernable once I was stuck on it with no escape outlet. I decided to just brave it for 40-odd blocks until a key left turn presented itself onto 9th street where I could make an immediate right onto the relative serenity of 3rd ave for the final dozen-odd blocks of the grid.
I've spent much of the past 7 years making bad turns in Brooklyn whenever I find myself there be it on foot, bike, car, or bicycle. It's just that kind of place. Thus, I've put it in heavy rotation when it comes time to feed my frequent addiction to map reading at home. What most of those maps don't tell you are the utterly random tendencies of one way streets to reverse direction or even change direction since the last mapping by popular vote of the local residents of a given block. So while it is hard to get lost in this relatively sane part of the borough, it took a few zigzags and U turns before I found Adams St, which provides the best approach ramp onto the city's most famous bridge.
There are few feelings in the world quite like traversing the Brooklyn Bridge and riding under its massive towers. This was my first time doing so in a bike, and once again I can only wish I had the automated bike-mount camera so I could have commemerated the experience in the absence of any viable pull-off. Soon the brief elation was tempered with the inevitable grind of Lower Manhattan traffic. There were a few points where I almost decided to just pull over and let Diana cool off, as by this point she was sounding a bit too noisy and hesitant getting into first year. But being so close to my final destination of 5th street, we stuck it out together and arrived on the block right at the stroke of 6 pm.
It is hard enough to find street parking in the East Village on a good day, so it seemed almost prophetic to see a nice gap between two parallel parked cars, half of which was already occupied by a motorcycle of early 80's vintage. A perfect spot to slide Diana right alongside and give her a companion for the night. Due to the nice custom paint job and lack of original decal work, I couldn't make out the exact make and model of the bike. Other than boasting a much high speedometer limit, it looked like a pretty similar pedigree to Diana, possibly of the Suzuki ilk. The lovely little tartan finish on the tank culminated in the pet name "Bright eyes". I never did meet its lucky owners, but I'm sure it's in good hands.
Shortly after dismounting and unloading everything including detaching the saddle bags themselves so as not to take any chances, Cedric arrived back from work and we took the haul inside. After settling in and catching up, we all whisked off to a gallery opening in Brooklyn (oddly close to the an intersection I went right through on my way into the city initially), then a refreshing late night dinner at one of the Village's umpteen asian-mediterranean health food cafes where I got some nice rare wasabi-seared tuna steak. This more or less completed the seafood cycle of the trip, and tomorrow I'd be completing the motorcycle cycle.
Here's the gallery for today:
No playlist, iTunes vaporized it.
Posted by Todd at May 18, 2005 11:26 PM