Bicycle riders are like centaurs: half human, half vehicle. Centaurs were liminal beings, from the Latin limen, or “threshold.” Bikers share pedestrians’ rights and drivers’ rights.
Coming home one night a few summers ago, I was hit and almost run over by a biker right at a park called Abingdon Square (although it’s technically a triangle.) I remember his bicycle vividly: a bright red color that I identified as PANTONE 185, one of my favorite reds. I was upset but unharmed so I didn’t pursue any charges, nor asked for help getting up. The biker was profusely apologetic.
After I stood up —it was almost midnight and the park was deserted— a lady walked by with her small white fluffy dog. I thought the dog was a shih tzu and she seemed friendly so I asked her how old the dog was. “Nine
years old,” she said in a low, contralto voice, “and he’s NOT a shih tzu, he’s a Havanese dog, the only breed native to Cuba.” I looked up and realized who I was talking to: the actress Glenn Close. Having noticed I recognized her and avoiding any eye contact, she yanked the dog’s leash and, turning a bit Cruella DeVille-ish, fled immediately. I love happy accidents!
—Raúl Rodriguez, Abingdon Square Park, 10.9.2018
(1) These are two true stories combined in one, like a centaur.