I Talk To the Wind

The truth is, that morning, the song I was REALLY singing was Windy by the Association.

Back on April 27, the Albany, NY area had a WIND advisory. I’m stubborn, though, since it was ostensibly warm enough to ride my bike to a certain point (by the school on Northern Boulevard for you locals). I needed the exercise, though I required gloves and a knit cap, because, as Jaquandor wrote about the winter: “Wind can pretty much render any set of weather circumstances unpleasant.” That piece came to mind during the sojourn.

How was it possible that I was ALWAYS riding into a headwind?

I get to my initial destination, waiting for a bus. It was trash day, and a piece of recycling had fallen out. Ever get a deli platter for a party? In the US, at least, the bottom section is usually black. As it started moving around, I decided to pick it up. It would move just out of my reach, as though someone had tied a string on it and was yanking it away in a minor comedy. I finally stepped on it, retrieved it, and placed it in the recycling bin.

By this time, the clear plastic top of the platter combo, much lighter in weight, was blown out of the recycling bin, and just took off, out into the street, against traffic, at about 12 miles per hour; I had no chance of retrieving it, but I marveled at its peculiar artistry.

On the way home, it wasn’t bad heading south, but heading west was very difficult. Usually, I just take lengthy stretches in each direction, but on that day, I’d zig down one street, and zag down another to avoid an extended ride into the wind. The distance was not much farther, but I got home, unusually exhausted.

The title reference was to a song by King Crimson. But the truth is, that morning, the song I was REALLY singing was Windy by the Association; hey, it’s jauntier!

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