Yes, I’m crazy enough to have ridden the bike to the train today, when temps in Hawthorne were just about 1 degree. One. The loneliest number.
I figured, the bike is 5 minutes of absolute hell.
The walk, on the other hand, is 15 minutes of close-to-hell.
There was no wind. There was no ice on the roads. I hit the bike. I lifted it up on a snow bank and chained it to the rack.
The ears. That’s the only thing that really, truly was cold to the point of hurt. The ears.
The 8:41 train was a few minutes late. It’s never late. We got on and stopped for a moment near the boneyards between Hawthorne and Valhalla. Which never happens.
Heck, I was just happy to be on a warm train.
It took me to White Plains to finally warm up.
The doors opened at White Plains. We felt the cold enter like an unwanted rider. The doors stayed opened. Cold’s friends, Frigid, and Frozen, got on too.
Two minutes, three. People glanced up at the offending doors. Still open. Artic and Tundra hustled over the threshold.
A cold you could almost see, so tangible it was.
Four minutes and five. People near the doors relocated. Others pulled scarves and mittens down from the overhead racks.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” went the announcement. “We’re having a mechanical problem. We should be moving shortly.”
Uh, close the f%$#ing doors, please. A few more minutes pass. I could see my breath.
The PA system crackled to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our train is unfortunately missing its shoes,” said the man. Yes, shoes. That’s what he said.
“We have to take this train out of commission. An express will be on the track across the platform momentarily.”
We grumbled and got to our feet, feeling the tingle in our toes.
Three minutes later, the train showed up. It was pretty darn full. I found an aisle seat in the middle of the car.
We stopped in Hartsdale and Scarsdale. It got super-packed. A nice lady with a mellifluous Indian accent implored us to make room for the new riders. We grudgingly did, because she was nice. We stopped in Crestwood then went express.
With riders packed into the aisles, we docked at Grand Central at 9:47–and hour and six minutes after we departed Hawthorne, and a good 20 or so minutes late.
Hopefully Metro-North finds some nice shoes for the 8:41.