You'll flow down her river
She'll ask you and you'll give her
(My apologies to Echo & the Bunnymen)
There's nothing quite like the feeling of riding your fixie along with a strong tailwind.
The push in your back and the momentum of the fly wheel give you liquid grace with almost no cost of effort. Curled over the frame, silently flying with a solid single gear, you are true poetry, flesh and metal, form and function...united.
You could recite a Shakespearian sonnet if you felt the impetus to, not stopping once to take a single, unnecessary breath.
Unless, of course, it was taken away by the sight of the moonlight, hidden from view, splashing down from behind the lurking clouds like a stage light onto the lake. Far out from the shore. A midnight, mystical kiss. The gray water rolling gently and dreamlike under it's glow...hyper-dimensional and almost separate from reality, as if its entire panorama were a View Master slide. Denying the wind it's due. Holding all kinds of creatures, secrets, and mysteries.
An evening ride to remember forever.
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