Anyone outside last Sunday was treated to a wind here in Chattanooga that is rarely felt, at least not without a horrendous storm accompanying it. What a day for kite flying! And what a day for bike riding!
All was manageable until I was crossing Market Street Bridge and suddenly if found myself in a wrestling match. A large, invisible hand was pushing me, pushing me right into the curb. I was refusing to go! Back and forth, the wresting match continued. At times it seemed I would win but many times I knew I was going into the curb and tripping onto the sidewalk. At times it was strong enough I envisioned myself being taken right over the side railing and into the river.
But suddenly, at times during this match, that malevolent hand turned benevolent and ceased its attempt in pushing me over the side and instead pushed me ahead. Wheee! What a feeling! I know if biking always felt that way people would be paying for a chance to do it.
But before I could take that wonderful ride for granted, that hand would turn malevolent again. Wrestling time again! There I was alternately wrestling the wind and riding the wind all across the bridge.
What an adventure!