Finding places for a kid to ride his bike in this town are obviously not that easy, unless you happen to live close to Central Park, which we do not. So the past few Sundays I’ve taken him down to the delightful-sounding Stuyvesant Cove, which is actually a demarcated swathe of concrete beside the East River and the FDR Drive just below 23rd St.
But that is honestly selling it a bit short. It is a valiant attempt to give people a place to sit, read, jog, cycle (that Manhattan Greenway path I traversed last year bisects it) or whatever takes their fancy.
There’s a large mural painted on the ground in front of a a little envirobmental center called Solar One and M has great fun steering his bike of choice around there, though recently he’s chosen his trike rather than his new bike.
We see the usual menagerie of New York there – one week we were greeted by and ambulance carting a guy away who had been sleeping in the undergrowth and didn’t appear to be moving any time soon.
And each Sunday around 5pm the first seaplanes arrive to deposit those more fortunate types, presumably avoiding the roads back into town from the Hamptons. We spot them, watch them take off again and then head for home.
