12.15.2008,7:41 AM
Catching a tailwind riding the high rolling plains is like being on a small prairie schooner. Enveloped in a vacuum of sound and wind, softly gliding over the land as if on a cushion of air several feet off the ground. I don't want to stop, but continue on so effortlessly on my little schooner, sailing along in the air.

Soon I sail into home port, anchor the sidestand and disembark the bike. Now standing still, the warm southern wind buffets me and moves on.

Two hours later, snug in my house, the wind knocks and rattles at my northern windows and door. "Let me in!" and I say, "No!" by drawing the drapes close and lowering the shades.

The raging north wind rocks my house and whistles its presence, pushing the warm southern wind back home and curling its cold fingers around me. Temperatures plunge 30 degrees outside my warm cave as the full moon rises and the candle flickers.

Thanks for the ride, my warm southern friend. May we meet again soon.


posted by Macrobe
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