Walking, an act that we do everyday without a second thought. We go to and fro, and return from whence we came. We use it to reach a location of importance to us, the act itself loses all meaning. What does walking matter, when all we try to do is reach our goal faster. It becomes a routine, one route that you take everyday. Nothing new to see or interact with, especially when half  the journey happens underground. However, it was not always that way, there was a time when the map of the city was blank, when the towers off in the distance seemed unreachable with the current means of walking, when the light beamed of the thundering trains above the streets.

Over the years I have been in many places within Brooklyn, Manhattan and Staten Island. At first, it was mainly in Brooklyn, walking by the bay near the Verrazano bridge, then under it and past it. Then there was the time I rode my bike all the way down to the Owls Head pier, that was the plan anyway. The bike was designed for more off road and rough Terrain, so it was heavy, had wide tires and, most important, a tight transmission and belt. All that  lead to near exhaustion and loss of speed, and when bikes loose speed they start winding because you are still paddling and exerting force in different directions and times. This led to the wheel hitting a high curb and destroyed the front wheel which sent me flying forward rolling and the bike landing on most of my body. No idea how I did not have a concussion or major injures after that. However, I most likely would not be aware if I had a concussion at the time. This brings the story to the long walk by the bay and under and past the bridge with me carrying the bike on my back all the way home.

However, on the way there I enjoyed the bay, which I had not stopped to look at for a while since I would usually ride past it on the bike.  Then there were the geese stayed on the grass and the seagulls overhead. The sun was also out and was heating the aluminum frame of the bike. Oh, well it was good exercise and it was only Saturday. Once I fixed the wheel that night I knew I would be out there tomorrow, but going much faster to keep up with my father`s light wight, thin wheeled European racing bike. Now all I needed was for my wheel to stop losing air and everything should go fine.

That was the plan.