Spraying rain, those fast moving clouds signaling the departure of the short blast of warmth that was brought about by those same fast moving clouds. Gray, overcast skies, none of those broken clouds letting the sunlight shine down, no sun what so ever, gloom, gloomy mood in fact. Why does this car suck so bad, I want my normal car back, wow that turn almost flipped me over, my car wouldn’t do that, my car has stiff springs, coiling under the wheel wells low to the ground, good clearance, good handling, please G-d may I never have to actually buy one of these child carrying mobiles, I don’t want it, I want the free motion of speed and agility, swiftly carving the turns past old cemeteries, crumbling tilted red barns and fields of decaying corn stumps, I cannot concentrate on this due to soft suspension, lack of handling and poor weather. Thoughts of my car, thoughts of shifting from 5th to 3rd, rpms racing to red, tires pitting gravel and left over salt pebbles from last winter, all wheels moving at once bringing me to the joy of the country road.
Route 32 south, no destination, nope, back of my mind Jockey Hill Wildlife management area, good riding, bike thrown in back over seats, last weeks mud dotting the scratched metal, car seats placed in trunk, car seats void of children thank G-d. Abandoned drive in on left, cracks wreak havoc on the once smooth concrete expanse, small weeds fight for air, as the concrete fights back, its last surviving strength holding on as the signs of abandonment, decay, and eventual rot slowly creep in and take over, small thorny bushes climb the sides of the ticket booth threatening its insides, cracks in the screen are visible from afar, shotgun shells riddle the ground near an abandoned car, filled with pellet holds from 2 ¾ inch shells full of buckshot bought at wal mart for this purpose. Car thunders ahead to zero destination. Red light, a real American intersection, old gas station with junked out chevy’s and a tall white spire of a clap board church breaks through the imaginary ceiling of the country side. Happiness, small town brings me joy, as I continue on to nowhere. Truck with one headlight goes other way down narrow rutted driveway, with the strip of grass in the middle dividing the two wheel lanes, it splashes mud and muck onto its mud flaps with the silhouette of a pretty women on the back of them, truck is still bouncing up long narrow driveway as it moves out of sight.
I am singing along with the music emanating from the speakers, Reel Big Fish – always seems to bring a smile to my face, the gloom cannot win and will not win, I will over come the mood and the foreboding skies. I want to ride, I want the mud, sweat, and solitude. Downpour suddenly ruins that thought, the rain reverberates off the cars shell, windshield wipers smear the liquid without removing it, just creates a kaleidoscope of light that shines at weird angles through the smear.
Kingston- Rhinecliff bridge, $1, no EZ pass in this car, cash only, feels like a pizza store cash only I mean. Good view Hudson river appears, Hudson Valley, evokes beauty, big old mansions of wealthy northern industrialists, Industry, steel mills, textile mills, coal, iron, Bessemer, Carnegie, anthracite, Pittsburgh, Victorian homes with elegant roofs, carved banisters, wide verandas sweeping around, forced views of Catskills. Catskills are bare of leaves, patiently waiting for winters first gasp, that first snow storm, the slushy kind that causes accidents and becomes brown after 3 hours, that makes huge puddles on corners that beacon kids to jump in and get their feet wet.
Hudson NY, architecturally amazing, artistic buildings, pristine condition, bustling main street, antique shops, art galleries, cozy cafes, organic produce, vintage clothing, old books, used records, beard wearing artists with brown corduroy sport coats, with suede patches on the arms, Sophisticated women from lower Hudson Valley browse pricey antiques, noses poked in air they browse, Mercedes Benz, Subaru’s and Volvos line the street at perfectly placed intervals, next to perfectly ornate looking black lampposts with flower pots hanging from their midsections, signs depict the downtown business district in all its valor. Red brick buildings, different colored building facades creates uniqueness, old advertisements fading and painted over decorate the sides of these beauties. Cold is piercing through my fleece, damp cold, easy hypothermia, thank G-d for giving me house, wouldn’t want to sleep in a refrigerator box tonight, back in the warm cacoon of steel, racing back for evening prayer, must thank G-d for breath, food, ice cream, gasoline, car, road, architecture, music. Maybe Ill make stir-fry tonight, I am hungry, pangs growing, stomach growling, thoughts of the colorful stir fry, thoughts of fresh veggies, hmm.. broccoli, tofu, peppers, ginger, ginger rocks, getting dark, lights come on, illumination everywhere, rain again, cold fast moving clouds, gloom.