A Bike Pimp Don't Hibernate, Motherfucker.

The Technocolored Bike Pimp was out in all his splendor near Poets' Walk in Central Park the other day, scoping out the the people trying to dance on roller skates on a brisk, late winter day. 

A good 30 folks were still out there as the light began to fade quickly. I asked the guy if he took his Pimp Bike on the subway, and he was none too pleased. The dark side of his pimp demeanor started to show itself, but he seemed to realize that he didn't need that part of the personality anymore, and suppressed the urge to 'beat that ho down.' Like "Hey, you're not a Real Pimp anymore, Calvin. You're a Bike Pimp. You don't need to do shit to make your ends -- just ride your Pimp-Ass Bike around the park, and white people will pay to take a picture with you." 

Incidentally, the last time I was up here was probably November, when I came on another Sunday around the same time of day, and the skaterdancers had already started to disperse. I walked past a guy and he looked at me and asked, "You shopping?" I didn't have shopping bags or anything. I thought that was a bit odd.