My ears ring. I don’t know if they always rang, or if I just noticed it at some point and now I notice it all the time, but they ring, or whistle. It is not related to high blood pressure, I’m averaging 118 over 67 thank you for asking. Anyway, they ring, but I am learning to live with it for the time being.
I don’t notice it when I’m riding, so that means I didn’t notice it much this weekend. The Wrecking Ball and I set out on a duet Friday evening that took us out the eastside trails then all the way down to Railroad Square for First Friday. We ate Krishna food and rode laps through the milling crowds. The mohawk is back big-time. The fluffy, 80’s style mohawk. It is back for boys and girls alike, and seems to have no relation to a punk-rock ethos. I even saw a Sunday-school mullet at the bagel shop. This country only has about 4 decades worth of trends then they start over at the beginning with suspenders and highwaters.
Saturday was for open warfare and unapologetic bloodletting between the Torso, Mystery, and myself. I was so wound up to ride I kept rubbing my bald head looking for hairs to pull out. I was excited and I felt amazing. I tried to club them down like baby seals, but they hung on-taking blow after blow, then dishing it back out.
Then the rains came, and we settled in with FSU football, pull-ups, and yoga. This is a college town, and the University places a high value on the lessons learned in organized sports. They compete in a league against other schools, and football is one of the games they play. This much I know for certain.