You can see the former landowners left their mark on the tree, like a reverse Zorro.
on "Bissel Avenue". That stone wall marks the edge of the 239th Street Yard, and subway trains travel along the top of it on their way into and out of the yard.
These reflective metal gates, railings, and fences are quite common in certain parts of the city. It's not unusual to see multiple houses on a single block adopting this shinier-is-better philosophy of exterior design. I've taken untold photos of the mirrored spheres that I've passed; fortunately, I've exercised some restraint in posting only two so far.
UPDATE: Even though this photo was taken in the Bronx, I shall henceforth refer to this style of ornamentation as "Queens chrome" (as suggested by Jessica W in the comments below) to pay tribute to the borough where it seems to be most beloved.
I respect the way this sign expresses its individuality by boldly deviating from the standard boilerplate, but a close reading of the law (which the city supposedly started enforcing in 2008) reveals that it is not legally binding.
That's the edge of New York City. Right there, where the concrete turns to grass. Beyond that line lie the Mountains of Vernon, home to all manner of fantastical beast, if the hallowed legends of our time are to be believed. For ages, our greatest bards have captivated us with tales of the exotic parking regulations, speed limits, right-turn-on-red laws, and garbage collection schedules that are said to lurk in that land beyond the precipice. And now, after trekking for literally minutes through the farthest reaches of our fair metropolis, I am poised to venture forth into that great unknown; to see, with my own eyes, that fabled realm of myth and mystery. If I can just work up the courage to take those last few steps...
Oh, I see. That's kind of an odd location, isn't it? (Here's what it looks like from the street.)
Just across the line in Mount Vernon, this is one of 56 historic sites in Westchester County deemed marker-worthy by the state.
The assumption underlying my original declaration of awesomeness was that this postal receptacle was a unique, and quite substantial, celebration of the first letter of the resident family's last name. In the months since I took this photo, however, I have spotted several similar mailboxes around the five boroughs. Apparently, this is a common design that normally cradles a round-bottomed flower planter. Of course, I can't rule out the possibility that these folks actually are a C family, and that they've converted a formerly planterized mailbox into a three-foot-high expression of family pride. While such an act would certainly lie toward the awesome end of the spectrum, I don't think it would be sufficient to raise this mass-produced contraption to the level of official awesomeness.
You can check out this mailbox's replacement in the postal pantheon here.
It seems like every Rite Aid in the Bronx has hired the Royal Kingbee to paint its walls.
Fire hydrants were the canvas of choice for many patriotic painters during the Bicentennial, but it appears some dastardly loyalists got their hands on this one.
This sounds like a job for Revocable Consent!
According to a neighbor, this house has been uninhabited since the current owners purchased and gutted it in 1974. They periodically make small "improvements" (like sticking the metal poles in the front yard) to keep it from becoming legally abandoned, but it's been falling further and further into disrepair for close to 40 years now, and has been deemed unfit for human occupancy. People in the neighborhood have offered to buy it, but the owners refuse to sell. The house they actually live in is quite a doozy, apparently, and it sounds like I'll know it when I see it. Stay tuned!
A woman I met in passing swore this car hasn't moved in ten years. There's no alternate-side parking here on Edison Avenue, so I suppose it's possible, although the registration is up to date and the tires are fully inflated. The pavement beneath the car does look a little discolored...
But, sadly, it appears she was wrong. When the Googlemobile passed by in September 2007, this car was nowhere to be seen. It does appear in one undated aerial photo, though not in a second one. And the bird's-eye views are inconclusive. The most likely explanation would seem to be that the owner lives in the adjacent house and regularly parks in this spot because it is convenient and, given the ample street parking in the area, generally available.
Memorializing an adulterous "slay-plotter" (a phrase used exclusively by the Post, it seems) on this bench in Pelham Bay Park since August 21, 2011
This supposedly controversial public space seemed pretty vibrant today, but why aren't there more tables?
It should come as no surprise that this little guy, perched on a traffic median in Jackson Heights, owes his existence to Henry Stern. He originally had a companion a couple of blocks away, but she vanished without a trace several years ago. Wink himself seemingly left town back in 2009, only to mysteriously reappear on his rock some months later.