In June 1986, I bicycled from 186th Street and Amsterdam Avenue to the dock at the foot of Dyckman Street and the Harlem River; about one and a half miles down a steep hill. In the back of my bike, inside the folding baskets, I had my inflatable rubber boat and collapsible oars. I was going to lock the bike, inflate the boat, and row on the river.

By the dock there were groups of guys with covered powerboats having cook-outs and beers in the late afternoon. Some firemen, no cops, and all seemed like they could be cast in "Goodfella's." I locked my bike and asked if it was safe. They told me not to worry, no street crime had EVER OCCURRED at or near their boats. NONE EVER WOULD.

I told the guys I was going to row up to the Columbia Boathouse and then row back...