Serene as Buddha both, a bearded senior with a bird—a cockatoo—on his bars; a dapper pinstripe businessman in a three piece suit on a longboard; neon deep rim narrow riser bar fixies, one every few minutes like they’re late to a parade for themselves; those distinctive stout rental bikes always two or more abreast and Italian French Portuguese voices; more briefcase fronted Bromptons than I’ve ever seen; a little girl with a purple helmet with rigid cat ears, I say, “I like your helmet,” she pedals harder with her whole body; a triathlete; Rapha jerseys; Dutch bike; a half dozen different configurations of recumbent; a Pinarello Dogma 2 Team Sky edition;  velojoring behind a Husky; tattooed jean shorts knee socks piercings flying hair on a 70’s tourer; khaki pants, maroon shirt, hi-viz vest, coke bottle glasses bent over his bars, startling me as he whizzes by, look down, 22 on the Garmin, look across to the receding figure, a battery.

Nearly 80 degrees warm on the Hudson River Greenway along the West Side Highway.