Man, was it hot riding home from the station yesterday evening.

I unlocked my ride at the rack, and saluted my other rack occupant with a nod.

He’s a youngish guy in a beard, and I was curious where he rides to, because there are major hills in most directions around the station. It’s hardly bike-friendly.

He was off a moment before me, heading south.

I strapped my pack onto my pack, Dora’s “Backpack” song bouncing around my head. (Backpack, backpack…if you have a daughter who’s under 5, you know the tune.)

My pack was particularly heavy; I’d played softball after work late last week, and left my work clothes and shoes at work. All were in my pack last night.

My fellow rider turned left at Lexington Cross Street, which is a giant hill. I watched him climb that thing like Lance in his prime, slow and steady, like the lederhosen-clad mountain climber in that game on The Price is Right.

All the way to the top. I was impressed.

Meanwhile, down at the bottom of Elwood and Cross, I was laboring under the weight of my pack and cursing the relentless summer heat. Hot, sweaty, sore, and with Dora’s “Backpack” song in your head…I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, short of BP execs.

As I neared Chelsea, a familiar car went by. Neighbor “D” offered the surf’s-up finger-pinkie wave; he’s just back from a shore vacation and obviously still has the beach on the brain.

“Wanna ride?” D asked as we turned onto Chelsea.

I thought of some way I could latch on to him, have his little Subaru drag me by bungee cords up Heartbreak Hill and home.

Then I thought of a more doable Plan B.

“Can you grab my pack?” I said as I yanked the boulder off my pack.

“Sure,” he said, grabbing the satchel and proceeding to zoom up Chelsea.

Five minutes later and 15 pounds lighter, I arrived at the homestead, and found my pack sitting in the driveway, waiting for me.

So thank you, D, for making my steamy Monday slightly easier.

For your efforts I will plug your band, Wakeup Call, and sincerely hope you fill Victor’s August 28.

I know WC bills itself as Westchester’s best classic rock band.

Maybe you can play Dora’s “Backpack” song for me.

Nice rack!

I saw the town workers huddled around where the Hawthorne bike rack once stood yesterday morning.

By the time I got back from Gotham yesterday evening, a shiny new bike rack was installed, around 3 1/2 months since the previous one was knocked down.

No more crossing Great Lakes-size puddles to jam our bikes under the overpass.

It’s a wiggly black metal structure, same as the other, shaped like an S with an extra hump.

Hopefully it won’t meet the same fate as its predecessor at the hands of a mighty snow plow.

Thank you, Town Supervisor Maybury!

Where once stood a proud bike rack , in all its glory

You’ll recall that it was like 90 degrees the other day, a far cry from heavy snowfall and freezing temps. Because it was after one of those heavy snowfalls that a snowplow inadvertently (at least we think it was inadvertently…I mean, who would do it on purpose?) knocked over the Hawthorne bike rack.

Indeed, it was some time ago that the rack was knocked down.

We alerted Town Supervisor Maybury to the felled rack, and she indicated it would be fixed right away.

That was almost three weeks ago.

Granted, the town took away the busted old rack right away. But the new rack has not arrived.

It’s sort of like the old Seinfeld episode, where Jerry and Elaine found out that their rental car has been given away. Jerry says the rental car place is obviously quite good at taking the reservation, but not quite as adept at keeping the reservation–inarguably the more important part of the equation.

Similarly, the town scores high marks for taking away the old rack, but not so for putting in the new rack–surely the more essential element in the transaction.

We know the supervisor is super-busy, and by all accounts has real plans to make Mount Pleasant–and the Hawthorne train station–a brighter, better place.

But please fix the darn rack. The space with the iron bars under the overpass–where we’re technically not supposed to park–is full of bikes.

Perhaps the good fellows of the town’s highway department will be on the case this weekend. It being a holiday and all, there’s probably a decent payday involved.

Town Supervisor Joan Maybury did get back to me late yesterday after my phone call last week, and said the town would get right on the fallen bike rack; she didn’t realize the thing was flatter than a drunk at the end of a bender, and said it would stand tall again A.S.A.P.–as soon as this week.

(The fallen rack was not a result of the crazy tornado winds the last few days, but an errant snowplow during one of the snurricanes this past winter.)

Supervisor Maybury also said some building is underway at the southernmost tip of the station (see photo below), where as we speak a Metro-North crew is erecting a flower planter made of Belgian blocks.

She said it’s one of a handful of beautification projects around Hawthorne train station, including the stationhouse itself, which is getting a new door and new windows.

As Trainjotting broke a few months ago, the shabby cabbie company is moving out (not the May 1 move-out that the cab company initially said in a sign on their window, but at the end of May). Maybury said the town is receiving proposal requests for the building; once Mount Pleasant Taxi clears its junk out of the building, tenants might include a coffee shop, or even the Pleasantville Taxi outfit.

“There seems to be interest,” she said. “The first thing to do is to get it available.”

Maybury said there would be no lapse in taxi service when the Mount Pleasant Taxi guys move over to Broadway, and switch names to Crossroads Taxi, even though they’ll be situated at the southern tip of Broadway–one of the few spots on the planet that does not have a crossroads.

Finally, Supervisor Maybury said the ornamental new clock to go up in the station’s front lawn will be delivered this week or next.

But it’s the bike rack project I’m watching most carefully.

There it is, what was once a proud little testament to green commuting, now a jungle gym for ants and ladybugs.

The quick “Behind the Music” story of the bike rack–we asked Town Hall for it in 2007, Town Hall delivered, a number of people locked their bikes to it, and it was knocked down by a snow plow during one of our crazy snurricanes this past winter.

Up until this week, it was at least upright–not useable, as the rack was separated from its concrete moorings, but at least standing with a hint of dignity.

Now, it’s down and out.

Town Supervisor Maybury and I spoke about the rack in late March, and she said the highway department was set to fix it. I left a message for her yesterday morning and haven’t heard back. [UPDATE HERE, SHE DID CALL BACK.]

And what’s up with Mount Pleasant Taxi? They had a sign out a few weeks ago saying they were moving to the other side of the tracks (and if you’ve been on the Broadway side of Hawthorne station, it is indeed The Other Side of the Tracks), potentially clearing out the station house for a coffee shop, reading room, or whatever. But it sure looks like the cab crew is still installed inside its longtime digs.

I had a very positive chat with new Mount Pleasant Town Supervisor Joan Maybury yesterday.

I’d called Town Hall looking for an update on the Hawthorne/Valhalla Train Station Meeting held Monday night, which I’d hoped to attend but the bedtime stories with Little G ran late.

Maybury getting sworn in across from her predecessor, Robert Meehan. Image: Journal News.

I was happy to see Supervisor Maybury not only call me back–she doesn’t know me–but call me after 5, which tells me she’s not simply punching the clock.

In fact, I got much more of a sense of “public servant” than “politician” from Supervisor Maybury, who took over the town’s top job when Robert Meehan was appointed to a county job by new County Exec Rob Astorino. (For what it’s worth, Maybury, Meehan and Astorino are all Hawthorne residents, making our dinky hamlet Westchester’s center of power. ) 

Working with the civic group Mount Pleasant Today, Maybury is making the “kinda dismal” (her descrip) appearance of the Hawthorne station–the sorry state of the old station house, the Exxon Valdez-ian oil spills left behind by the taxis housed there–a priority. The stately grandfather clock, which the town has been raising funds for pretty much since we moved in over three years ago, is going up in May or June, Maybury said. 

“There’ll be a rejuvenated look to the area,” she said. “We’ll certainly clean up the building.”

That may include getting the cab company’s storage junk out of the main room and opening it up to the public; Maybury hinted that the town would push Mount Pleasant Taxi to be better, cleaner neighbors or set up shop elsewhere. The town may entertain suggestions from the community as to how to best use that space; a coffee shop or book club were two off-the-top-of-her-head potential uses from Maybury.   

The greenery fronting the station will also get a face lift, with rose bushes and other flora. “We hope to see a whole new scape there,” said Maybury. “We hope by August it’s 100% better, and we have plans to make it even better after that.”

Valhalla, meanwhile, is getting 104 new parking spaces. Bids are due back in April, and the town is shooting for September. That lot also has security cams, and Hawthorne’s soon will too.

Maybury gave me all the time I needed, and even threw it back to me–as a daily commuter, she said, what do I want to see done? (No one ever asks me what I want!) I mentioned the busted bike rack, and she said the highway deparment plans to fix it. I mentioned how some sort of sidewalk or paved path connecting the bottom of Bradhurst, going under the highways, to the rear train station entrance on Broadway–it’s currently a muddy and somewhat dangerous shoulder of Rte. 100–would encourage people to walk from the area around Hawthorne elementary school to the train.

Maybury agreed, and said it was going on her to-do list.

Of course, what polititicans–or public servants–say and what they actually do can be vastly different animals. But Maybury encouraged me to call again, and follow up on the issues we spoke about until they’re completed.

Accountability from holders of public office? Maybe it’s the start of a trend.

As we mentioned previously, there’s a meeting Monday, March 22 at Mount Pleasant Town Hall about the Hawthorne and Valhalla train stations. Here are the topics to be delivered before our town supervisor, chief of police, and highway superintendent.

•  Safety & Security Issues
• Drainage Issues (Hopefully this includes the nasty spilled oil the cab company leaves behind)
• Parking Enforcement
• Plans for Hawthorne Railroad Building
• Proposed Taxi Code
• Proposed Goals for 2010 and Beyond
• Questions and comments from audience

I heard from a member of the civic group Mount Pleasant Today about the bike rack busted during last month’s snow storm and ensuing snowplowing. MPT said the rack was examined during a site inspection with town officials and will be fixed.

Westchester is still digging out after the two-foot ass-kicking we took late last week. Much of the county lost power for a significant amount of time; some are still without power, I think,

Chappaqua resident Peter Applebome, who writes the My Town Our Towns column for the NY Times, writes about the misery of being off the grid for three days up there in Clintonville. To be fair, Applebome says it ain’t exactly the same as being an earthquake victim.

I saw stretches of outages while walking home Friday, including Broad just east of Bradhurst.

While we were able to keep Dinosaur Train airing on Sprout for Little G all weekend, we were nonetheless dismayed to find our beloved little bike rack–the one we pestered Town Hall for 2 1/2 years ago, the most publicized little bike rack in the free world–flattened from the snow.

What fond memories we have of the rack: Seeing it arrive that fateful day in July 2007. Seeing it become a popular hangout for two-wheeled vehicles when gas got freakishly expensive. Seeing it get totally full of bikes after some initial resistance.

[The curvy black bar behind the fence]

Well, perhaps it was not entirely flattened, but it’s looking for all the world like it is not something you will ever again lock your bike on, at least not in its current state.

It appears the snow plows, while clearing out the Hawthorne station lot, shoved a mountain of snow against the rack, which has been lifted off its moorings on one side and now is raised to the sky at a 45 degree angle, as opposed to the right angle more commonly seen on bike racks. The plows presumably busted the thing right out of its concrete platforms, which, frankly, didn’t look so secure from the start.

We’ll see what it looks like when the mound of snow clears. For now, there’s so much snow keeping the rack in place that it seems safe to lock your bike to–heck, I did this morning, and the long vacated Power Climber bike is still there, more neglected than Kirstie Allie’s StairMaster.

But the Town maintenance guys are going to have to do some jiggering to make it viable after the snow’s gone.

I was chatting with Saugatucker about the merits of biking to the train recently. Sure, it’s a few minutes of misery on those 20 degree mornings. But we agreed there’s something about driving to the train that just feels like the ultimate suburban cliche…wait, the image of the angry commuter chipping ice off his windshield before driving to the train would be the ultimate suburban cliche.

Saugatucker carves almost three miles through the Westport terrain each morning on his bike, a much lengthier jaunt than mine. We mentioned the quiet delight we experience when seeing neighbors climb into their cars around the same time we set out on our bikes, both looking to make the same train, but only one of us having to navigate the labyrinthian misery of the commuter parking lot.

Of course, on those bleak wintry-mix mornings when I set out on foot, I’m all too happy to have those neighbors give my sorry ass a ride to the station.

So I was torn between walking to the train and riding the trusty steed this morning, with all the precipitation nonsense that fell yesterday. I was fearful of the dreaded black ice this morning, but also tired of all the walking to the station I’ve done of late due to all the snow. So I decided to set out a few minutes early and bike cautiously.

At the end of my driveway, I saw a neighbor climbing into the passenger seat of her car, with her husband at the wheel. Their kid was in tow too–heading to the city with mom due to winter break from school.

The roads were fine and I resumed my normal speed after descending Heartbreak Hill to Memorial Drive. I pulled into the station parking lot just as the stone-faced D was dropping off T and Little V–chalk another one up for the bike guys.

My morning momentum was short-lived, however, as the 8:16 was late. At 8:22, the loudspeaker crackled to life.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the 8:16 is running 10 to 15 minutes late,” it said.

Us platform pigeons performed a collective exhale to show Metro-North our displeasure, and sought refuge from the morning chill in the plexiglass shelter.

At 8:29, the 8:16 rolled in. No explanation for the delay was forthcoming, and the 8:16 pulled into Grand Central at 9:13, a full nine minutes late. That’s even late by Metro-North’s generous 5:59 rule, which says trains arriving up to six minutes late are, in fact, on time by the railroad’s standards. In fact, the latest issue of MNR mouthpiece Mileposts said the Harlem Line was “on time” 98.6% of the time in 2009–meaning us poor suckers on the so called “8:16″ this morning were privy to something that only happens 1.4% of the time.

How special! Perhaps I was better off riding the bike to the city.  

I generally have no qualms with the taxi guys based out of the old Hawthorne station house. I mean, I was OK with it that night when they took the drunk ass to the far end of Thornwood before bringing me and another Hawthorner to our homes first.

I don’t really mind the landfill of cigarette butts the dispatchers create outside their window.

And I’m really perfectly fine with the fact that the old station house is used as storage for the cab company’s junk, instead of something useful and attractive like the Starbucks over at Hartsdale station, and I don’t hold them responsible for the time the disgruntled cabbie slaughtered the rabbit on the cab station steps. 

Not their fault.

But geez, are they making a mess where they park over by the bike rack. Earlier this week, I noticed a giant brown puddle of something that looked like milk chocolate but surely doesn’t taste like it. The puddle was about the size of an inflatable kiddie pool, and sat underneath a taxi that looked like it was out of commission. The puddle had oozed its way to a storm drain about 40 feet away, an ugly river of brown and weird toxic rainbow colors. Some unidentified car part–some sort of liquid holding vessel the same color as the ooze–has been sitting next to the bike rack all week.

The dioxin puddle has subsided a bit, but it’s still there.

Then, this morning, I spied a porno mag open spread-eagle, if you will, next to the bike rack. The fold revealed several pics of a woman named “Gianna”–hey, it’s an Italian neighborhood–and the bold type stated that Gianna is, indeed, “100% Genuine.” 100% Genuine as she sat perched upon a Harley, 100% Genuine as she did a little gardening in the buff.

I would’ve turned the page to see what other fleshy treasures the mag held, but a full platform of 8:16ers were looking down on me.

I’m a grown-up and I’m not offended by the smut. But hey–there’s a kid’s dirt bike locked to the rack…there are kids present!!