14
As we ride through Brooklyn the wind belts us around from both sides and right in the teeth. But the sun’s beginning to break through, and it’s easy riding, no hills.
This part of Brooklyn is mostly rows of houses joined together, or low apartment buildings, with little patches of lawn in front of them. There’s lots of trees along the streets. It doesn’t look anything like Manhattan, but not anything like the country, either. It’s just Brooklyn.
All of a sudden we’re circling a golf course. What d’you know? Right in New York City!
“Ever play golf?” The wind snatches the words out of my mouth and carries them back to Mary. I see her mouth shaping like a “No,” but no sound comes my way. I drop back beside her and say, “I’ll show you sometime. My pop’s got a set of clubs I used a couple of times.”
“Probably I better carry the clubs and you play. I can play tennis, though.”
We pass the golf course and head down into a sort of main street. Anyway there’s lots of banks and dime stores and traffic. Mary leads the way. We make a couple of turns and zigzags and then go under the parkway, and there’s the ferry. It’s taken us most of an hour to get from Mary’s house.