Seeing all the frosty white and pink blossoms exploding forth from the happy spring trees reminds me of a lot of memories, mostly of exuberant elation of times past. one such memory is pretty much perfect. like there's NOTHING that could have been better at that moment then what actually did happen.
I used to have a motorcycle. I LOVED that motorcycle. it was my stead, my Shadowfax. she was a straight bar, low riding drag bike. a very classical looking chopper with a black tear drop gas tank and very subtle off-black flame on the sides. wherever it wasn't black, it was chrome. like bling-bling curvy chrome. on top of that, it was insanely fast and quiet. so it looked like a harley, but rode like a ST1100. which to laity is a really suave bolla bike with mucho power and a subtle purr to its engine. not the obnoxious, Blagga-blaga-boom that Harley's use to set off every alarm in the neighborhood and erase your brain mid-sentence because all you can think about is the vibration of your ribcage.
I rode that bike all year long. rain or shine. i would wear ski equipment when it snowed, and i even learned how to put my feet down and ski down the avenue while holding on to the handles. very dumb, but really fun and easier then you would think.
So, when spring rolled around it was off with the goggles and the heavy equipment and time to feel the wind in my hair and ride through the blowing cherry blossoms. there was a particularly perfect afternoon, the occasional dandelion puffy cloud and blossoms in the breeze from the Central Park trees. I was giving my friend Marc a ride home from work. I liked to share the wealth when the weather was like that. I chose to take the road that winds inside of Central Park, as it is, hands down, one of the prettiest drives available.
We came to a slow rolling stop right near the old Carousel. a place i used to frequent for my riding kicks loooong before i could handle driving a motorcycle. the sun was dappled and volumetric shafts of light were dancing between the trees. the warm breeze was blowing millions of blossoms around us, and the air smelled fragrant.
Ok, so there we were, in this perfect place, on this perfect day, on my perfect bike. so i had to say something. i am that guy who can't just let a perfect moment happen. i have to open my big mouth and mention it. sometimes that can take away from the moment. like just my voice degrades it, or pointing it out, makes it less spontaneous and almost cheesy. like a hallmark card. but this moment was TOO perfect to ruin.
"Wow, what we got here, is a perfect day...we got the blue skies...we got the sun...we got the trees..." as i am doing this my hand points to each thing as i call it out, " we got some birds flyin' and chirpin'...we got this pretty jogger joggin' by...we got the horse carriage guy...we got the kids at the merry-go-round..." and just at that moment, i hear a chuckle just to my left. there had been a man and a small dog who was walking in the grass near the curb, just 3 feet from where my bike was. he had heard what i was saying and had moved closer to hear me. so i looked at him mid-sentence. it was Tony mother fuckin' Bennett. so, without missing a beat, i said "...and we got Tony Bennett about to sing us a song." and i gave him a big shit eating grin.
I shit you not about what happened next. He smiled and cleared his throat. "Ok boys, you got it...And if i never had a cent, i'd be as rich as a rock-efeller, with gold dust at my feet, On the sunny side of the street." that's right. he sang us a verse. and then he laughed, we applauded. my leather gloves not even doing the man any justice. here is a man who should only hear the applause of many, hearing it from two guys on a motorcycle in Central Park. he laughed, we laughed. then he waved and said "the light's green boys! have a wonderful day."
Tony Bennett. Central Park. PERFECT.
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