No more cars in Prospect Park.
My memory of cars in Prospect Park? I was part of a group of kids who stole a car on 5th avenue and 9th street and went on a joy ride in the park. We must have went around the park about ten times. I never had a chance to get behind the wheel that night. I was 14.
Starting in the new year, vehicle traffic will be completely banned inside Prospect Park, Mayor Bill de Blasio announced Monday.
The change will begin on Jan. 2 and will remain in effect “24 hours a day, 365 days a year,” the mayor said.
The new rules come more than two years after the city banned cars on Prospect Park’s West Drive, keeping the park’s East Drive open a few hours each morning during rush hour. At the time, residents on the park’s east side fumed about the exception, while advocates continued to push the city to prohibit all cars.
Cops corralled and tranquilized a rampaging bull that escaped a slaughterhouse and bowled over a 1-year-old girl as it scrambled into Prospect Park in Brooklyn on Tuesday, police and witnesses said.
Back in September of 2013, Kevin McPartland sent me his new novel.
I got through the first few chapters, then I put it down. Not that it was bad or anything, it’s just at times I’m a bit crazy when it comes to reading.
I take on many books at one time. I know, that’s a bad habit. I have trouble finishing. Always moving on to something else.
The other night in my basement while going through my book collection which is well over 200 books (Miss Monzillo would be proud of me) I pulled “Brownstone Dreams” and started it over.
Can’t put it down. Won’t put it down until I finish! I promise…
Great job Kevin, by the way, love Chapter 4, Prospect Park. I too had a similar experience.
I highly recommend getting K-Mac’s book – you’ll love it.
DNA info with the disturbing story below…
The 60-year-old unidentified man was found by police Sunday afternoon after passersby reported a smell to authorities, police said. Officers discovered the man lying face up inside a small tent in a wooded area near the park’s Center Drive.
As a kid I loved Friday night.
When I was 15, I had a blast. Hard to choose; Friday or Saturday as my favorite day of the week?
Went to the schoolyard to play ball.
Played some more ball.
Afterwards we hung out on the corner of Windsor and Ninth watching all the people go by. We broke balls. You learned to take it. We broke more balls.
Went home for dinner. Fishcakes and beans.
Showered and went over to Prospect Park. It’s the place we met up. You just knew to go there. If you grew up in the neighborhood, as a teen, it’s where you hung out. Each generation. Parkside. Circle. In the park. The benches. Pick a spot. We spent time there.
At around seven o’clock picked up some booze. Walked back to the park. Always in a brown paper bag, trying to hide it. Little did we know, everyone knew what we had under our arms. LOL
Head over to the bleachers, take a seat and we’re off.
Drink and bullshit. Bullshit and drink.
Music on the radio, come on baby.
There must have been 20 of us. Sometimes more, sometimes less.
You were always welcomed if you were an outsider. If you came from another parish. If you came in peace.
Friends hanging out. Having fun. Not a care in the world. Teacher, leave them kids alone.
No idea what was ahead.
No clue as to what I wanted to do.
Oh wait, I wanted to be an Ironworker. Still had a couple of years to go though.
At around eight or nine you snuggled up with your lady.
Holding hands. Touching. Kissing.
Next you and your girl took a walk.
Either you went behind the bleachers or you walked out to the diamonds.Maybe you walked up to Quaker cemetery?
Time to make-out. Plant that kiss. I had no idea what to do. No one ever taught me how to kiss.
Maybe you chased each other around a little. All in fun of course.
Pairing off with your girlfriend was my favorite time of the night. Always looked forward to it. I was in love. Puppy love.
Somewhere around eleven, it was time to go.
Saying good-bye to everyone and making that walk to her house.
Holding hands exiting the park. A little buzzed. Walking across ninth avenue, past Farrell’s; men looking at you. “There he goes…”
Hanging a right down Windsor Place.
At a snails pace I might add.
In front of the house, I hated kissing her good-night. I didn’t want her to go. Wanted to be with her all-night. Felt like I may never see her again.
Couldn’t wait for tomorrow…
Click on the link to read the story of a teen boy who made up this story of being groped in Prospect Park.
Come on man…