On one afternoon on a quick trip to New York City, I popped downtown sans Brompton. It was wet and cold, and I hadn’t brought good rain gear with me, so I hoofed it (and rode the subway). Before leaving Washington Heights, though, I spotted an old friend:
I’d first encountered what I now think of as The Antelope Linus just over a year ago, in, if I recall correctly, a different area of New York City. It was good to see that both cycle, and, presumably, cyclist, had survived since the previous year.