By the end of my ride today, the temperature dropped from 47 to 33
degrees because a cold front blew down from the north.

Luckily, the wind blew up the long climb from the foot of the dam to
the top of the ridge west of town, so I sat bolt upright and enjoyed a
wind-assisted 13 mph climbing speed where I normally stay down on the
drops and am happy to see 8-10 mph.

Half-way up the ridge, I began to hear an odd repeating noise that
seemed to come from somewhere below and behind me.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

Maybe my leg or foot was brushing something? I felt nothing, but the
noise seemed to be keeping pace with my pedaling.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

A quick look down showed no shoe straps dangling, no torn pants
flapping, no embarrassing streamer of toilet paper stuck to either
heel.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

I ducked my head further and peered back down at my rear wheel, but
there was no trash stuck in my spokes.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

A more careful look showed that my rear tire wasn't brushing the right
side of my frame.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

Another look showed nothing brushing the left side of my frame, but--

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

Ten feet behind me was a damned tumbleweed, keeping perfect pace with
me as it blew up the highway, bouncing up and down as it tumbled and
making a fairly regular whoosh-whoosh-whoosh noise as it kept hitting
the asphalt.

Cheers,

Carl Fogel