New York has been a good home to me. Without
any doubt, there probably aren't many states in this vast nation of ours that have more scenic or enjoyable areas to visit or call home. I've been fortunate enough to live in several different locations throughout the state and although the Hudson Valley - where I currently park my car - is exemplary in boasting vivid and varied sights all along the Hudson, tends to come with a hefty price tag.I'll save the drama here and rather than go into a long and rather boring dissertation regarding my thoughts on exactly why it costs so much to live forty five minutes north of the city - you know... the one they call "The Big Apple" - I'll just say that the area is damned expensive.
The cost of living in New York is not what this story is about though. I want to talk here about the weather. New York does have weather. On the surface, the fact that New York offers up four distinct seasons could be an attractive attribute to the great Empire State. Had I been the one to design New York however, I think I may have limited that number to three. Three seasons seem to be more than adequate.
It's Autumn in New York right now and although the landscape is ablaze with an amazing spectrum of colors, I can't help but think - as I exit my condo via the garage, walking past an array of motorcycles and a pair of cross country skis - about the weather that we will soon be dealing with.
Yes, I did say "cross country skis". You see, several years ago when I first realized that I pretty much detested cold and blustery bone chilling weather, I had an idea on how to deal with it. I remembered a time in my life when I actually enjoyed winter and I also remembered why I enjoyed the snow, the ice and the cold. Fun was the reason. Simply stated, winter was fun. We made it fun by various means like sledding, snowmobiling and sculpting forts and castles out of the massive piles of snow that fell from the sky during some of the worst storms of the sixties and seventies.
The cross country skis in my garage now symbolize my feeble attempt at bringing back the fun into winter. It worked, but only for a few short years. Skiing was fun but it had its limits. Fun that has seemed to fade away, as this aging man does what most aging men do - age. A man set in his ways to spend the remainder of his years with water evaporating off of his body from sweat and swimming pools, rather than from melting ice and snow.
So with that in mind, I venture out looking at homes in warmer climates along the east coast. My skis will surely dislike my decision but truthfully, my aging bones and motorcycles will love me for it. Where I'll end up is a mystery to me at this point but one thing is certain - the time has come to move on.
~safe riding~
- The Chief
It's Autumn in New York right now and although the landscape is ablaze with an amazing spectrum of colors, I can't help but think - as I exit my condo via the garage, walking past an array of motorcycles and a pair of cross country skis - about the weather that we will soon be dealing with.
Yes, I did say "cross country skis". You see, several years ago when I first realized that I pretty much detested cold and blustery bone chilling weather, I had an idea on how to deal with it. I remembered a time in my life when I actually enjoyed winter and I also remembered why I enjoyed the snow, the ice and the cold. Fun was the reason. Simply stated, winter was fun. We made it fun by various means like sledding, snowmobiling and sculpting forts and castles out of the massive piles of snow that fell from the sky during some of the worst storms of the sixties and seventies.
The cross country skis in my garage now symbolize my feeble attempt at bringing back the fun into winter. It worked, but only for a few short years. Skiing was fun but it had its limits. Fun that has seemed to fade away, as this aging man does what most aging men do - age. A man set in his ways to spend the remainder of his years with water evaporating off of his body from sweat and swimming pools, rather than from melting ice and snow.
So with that in mind, I venture out looking at homes in warmer climates along the east coast. My skis will surely dislike my decision but truthfully, my aging bones and motorcycles will love me for it. Where I'll end up is a mystery to me at this point but one thing is certain - the time has come to move on.
~safe riding~
- The Chief
