The Sea-Green Bicycle

I don’t know what it was about the bicycle that caught my eye.  Whether it was its light nautical sea-green paint job, the multicolored flowers in its white handlebar basket, or its bright, cheery appearance along the gritty, rainy New York City avenue – whatever reason it was, I had to take a picture of the bicycle.

A few days ago, I had to travel to New York City for something important.  No, it wasn’t an attempt for The Chance, I don’t get one of those until June of 2012.  No, it wasn’t to watch a sporting event or for sightseeing.

No, this is the kind of trip I call an “up and back,” a trip where the only purpose is to go somewhere and take care of something, and then drive back to the Capital District on the same day.  I had to take care of some personal business – there was something there that I had to get.

Oh, I did bring something important with me to New York City – my Kodak Brownie Bull’s-Eye camera, which I had pre-loaded with some respooled Fuji Reala 120 film (the Bull’s-Eye takes 620 film, which is essentially 120 film on a thinner-spindled spool).  I had four shots left in the camera – one photo was of the fall foliage in New Hampshire, while three more were of foliage in the Capital District.

It was a gloomy, overcast Wednesday morning in New York City.  I parked Cardachrome in a lot along 30th Street, and walked the two blocks from the parking garage to 7th Avenue.  And as I approached one of the intersections, I saw the bicycle.

Had to get a picture of it.

Not bad.  Decent snapshot.  A bit underexposed, I should fix this later in post-processing.

I continued to my destination.  305 7th Avenue, 12th floor.  Entered the office.  Talked with some people.  Filled out a form.  Initialed some documents.  Tried to explain to the receptionist why I was walking around with a 50-year-old camera, and yes I could actually get film for it.

I took care of my business in New York City, and got what I went there to get.

On the way back, I thought about getting a couple more pictures of the bicycle.  And sure enough, there it was – and, attached to the same pole, was another bicycle.

Yep.  I had a shot left.  Took it.

And on the way home, I thought about the green bicycle.  Perhaps the bicycle, its solitary existence that morning, and then its partnership with another bicycle later that day, could be a metaphor for what’s going on in my world.  In that even on days when I feel alone and solitary, I won’t be alone for long, knowing that I have friends who are part of my life.  Friends who will stand by me, just like that other bicycle stood by the green one.

In other words… you might be by yourself… but you are never alone.