The Mist, the Mare, The Bag on the Subway Steps

First, a recollection: On one of those perfect September mornings, much like this one, but this was long ago, I was riding my bike down a steep winding road somewhere North of Tahlequah and East of Highway 10. I was hoping I was on the right cut-through which would take me down to the Illinois River canoe rental places where I would find some lunch. There were rivers and pools of fallen leaves all over the roadway and I was zigging and zagging to avoid them and trying not to lose it on the turns. A stick or something jumped up and got caught in my front wheel and, though it didn't seem to be doing much harm, it was making a funny noise so at the first flat spot I pulled over to see what it was.

There was still a slight mist rising over the nearby fields, mown down hay from the looks of it, already cut and carried off to the winter barns. What it was was a piece of bark and it had jammed itself real well between one of the brake pads and the wheel rim. I started to yank on it and that's when I heard the horses. They were far off and down the hill from me, but in the clear air I could tell that there were four, or maybe five, animals making their way, clip clop, up the road. I got the bark out, picked up the front of the bike and spun the wheel to make sure it was on straight then waited to see what was coming.

There were two cowboys on horses leading two more horses. They were in no hurry. One of them was complaining to the other about something and the listening one was the one who saw me first from about one hundred feet away. I should have mentioned that I was wearing my full out-in-the-boonies bike gear, black and yellow striped helmet, brilliant yellow jersey and black with a big blue panel bike shorts. Knowing now that I looked like some kind of giant horsefly helps me understand what happened next.

As they got closer the listening cowboy made a sign to me to stay still. "No problem." I said softly and nodded my head 'Howdy" to the other one. "This one's a little jumpy." he said, "and I don't think she's seen anything like you before." He took a little rein in, "Whoa. Whoa." I stayed put as well as I could, but when the lead horse got to about twenty feet away she saw me. Her eyes got huge and her front legs flew out, straight as pipes and struck the pavement hard in a full jarring stop. The cowboy pulled back on the reins, but the mare shied backwards into the other horses before he settled her down. There was a lot of shushing and whoaing, but things were back to normal in a few seconds. Just a case of the jitters over something you don't expect to see.

So, this morning I run five miles in Central Park and take the subway down to Broadway and 23rd. It's just a short jog from there to my gym. I am just slogging along the big broad sidewalk on my way towards Park Avenue when I see the bag. It's a big bag, a duffel bag, and it's sitting right next to the entrance of the Number Six Lexington Line Subway Station. Many thoughts pass through one's head.

Oh, somebody is hauling their stuff down into the subway and this is the last remaining bag. (No one comes out to claim it as I get nearer.)

Oh, some poor homeless guy has walked off and left this huge bag.

(No, it is as clean as can be, nice and new)

Oh, maybe it's a bomb.

I really said that. My brain whirred momentarily, there was a sound like a piece of bark getting stuck in a wheel and I jammed both my feet into the pavement in a full stop and then staggered back a few feet. I shook my head and looked at the bag. Was that a wire sticking out of those papers? I did a side-stepping move worthy of any step aerobics workout tape and then traipsed backward, keeping one eye on the bag and the other on the approaching curb. And there, holy cow, just when you need one, a cop on the corner.

"I got weirded out by that bag"

"Yeah. Something happened. We are looking into it."

"There's a wire."

"Yeah, my partner checked it out. It's clothes. Coat hangers."

"You guys do not get paid enough."

And so the trembling mare headed up the roadway having survived a bad fright over nothing and the trembling slogger crossed the street and took a nice long steam where he remembered the mist and the mare and that long ago September morn.