We drove into Manhattan one Sunday early this January. It was unusually mild and pouring rain. When we got out of the Lincoln Tunnel, we drove around the West Forties looking for a parking place. Unsurprisingly, there were none. I started taking pictures out the window, which irritated my husband and daughter. Why was I doing something so inane? We parked at a garage and brought tickets to a so-so Broadway show. After the show, because the weather was so miserable, we jumped back into the car and drove straight home instead of our usual sightseeing. I took my last picture as we went back into the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey. When we got home, I looked at the pictures. It had been an aimless day for us. But looking at the photos, I was glad we went in. Even in the January rain, New York never looses its appeal.
