As we ride through Brooklyn the wind belts us around from both sides and
right in the teeth. But the sun’s beginning to break through, and it’s
easy riding, no hills.
This part of Brooklyn is mostly rows of houses joined together, or low
apartment buildings, with little patches of lawn in front of them. There’s
lots of trees along the streets. It doesn’t look anything like Manhattan,
but not anything like the country, either. It’s just Brooklyn.
All of a sudden we’re circling a golf course. What d’you know? Right in
New York City!
“Ever play golf?” The wind snatches the words out of my mouth and carries
them back to Mary. I see her mouth shaping like a “No,” but no sound comes
my way. I drop back beside her and say, “I’ll show you sometime. My pop’s
got a set of clubs I used a couple of times.”
“Probably I better carry the clubs and you play. I can play tennis,
though.”
We pass the golf course and head down into a sort of main street. Anyway
there’s lots of banks and dime stores and traffic. Mary leads the way. We
make a couple of turns and zigzags and then go under the parkway, and
there’s the ferry. It’s taken us most of an hour to get from Mary’s house.
I’m hoping the ferry isn’t too expensive, so I’ll have plenty of money
left for a good lunch. But while I’m mooning, Mary has wheeled her bike
right up and paid her own fare. Well, I guess that’s one of the things I
like about her. She’s independent. Still, I’m going to buy lunch.
The ferry is terrific. I’m going to come ride ferries every day it’s
windy. The boat doesn’t roll any, but we stand right up in front and the
wind blows clouds of spray in our faces. You can pretend you’re on a
full-rigged schooner running before a hurricane. But you look down at that
choppy gray water, and you know you’d be done if you got blown overboard,
even if it is just an old ferryboat in New York harbor.
The ferry ride is fast, only about fifteen minutes. We ride off in Staten
Island and start thinking where to go. I know what’s first with me.