Vignette New York City, Pt. 1

The thermometer said 29º in mid-town so I bought some full-fingered gloves from a street vendor. Having bundled up in three layers, I pedaled to Central Park. I tried not to think about how cold it was. During my last loop, I passed this tall scraggly long-haired kid in a leather jacket, weaving on a fixie and having a thundering conversation with himself in Italian. I tried not to make eye contact with him, because he looked rather unbalanced. I heard the booming monologue get louder behind me and as he went by a copy of “Junky” nearly inched out of corduroy back pocket and he started singing “Ru-dy Can’t Fail!” at the top of his lungs. He resumed his thundering soliloquy until I caught him again on the next incline and I went by singing the same chorus. He caught me again and we tried to have a conversation, but the only words we could agree upon was “Joe Strummer.” Then we sang Clash songs together, until I peeled off on 7th Avenue. This could only happen in one city.