You roll out the door, down the block, settling in.  Working out the wrinkles in the chamois, getting the pack settled just right.  Half hour of fidgeting and the legs have loosened, the kit is tuned and the trailhead taunts.  Qwik 30 minute ascent and you're up on the ridge, take a breather, take in the view, munch some calories and relax into the trail.  Let the tires find their purchase, test the shluffyness of the leaves and loam, slowly wind up the cadence.  Don't force it, let the trail come to you.  Roll out of each turn with a bit more snap, sometimes with a crackle, then a pop.  Soon enough the 32:19 is wound out and gravity takes over.

Relative silence, no clanging banging shifty bits to disrupt. Bit of brake squeal into a corner, the buzz of the Eno and the stern plunk of rubber on rock, knobs chewing up crunchy leaves. Keep winding that gear out, chasing gravity, ramping closer and closer closer to wide eyed blurry oxygen deprived sweetness. Swooshing thru the trees, nip and a tuck with a hoot and a holler, bike is brakeless flow and there's that perfect little hit.  An inviting ramp of rock with a sweet downslope landing.....then it's silent, and you're no longer connected, taking flight for those few bike lengths.  Don't forget to breath.

Is it any wonder that the inventors the magical flying machine had their start in bicycles? Wilbur prefering long rides thru the country, Orville being more of a scorcher on the track.  Their shop in Dayton was the foundation for the aeroplane works, where they repaired bikes, where they designed and built bikes, where they experimented with flying.  Did you know that the Wright Brothers were the 'inventors' of the left handed thread on your non-drive pedal?  That the propellers on the original Wright Flyer were driven by a bicycle chain?

freedom, in so many ways.

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