Above 55mph on a Bike the Spokes Sing

The position for the fastest descent

  

Just above 55 miles per hour the spokes sing.

I hear it with my crotch on the top tube,

My chest on the handlebars, my legs folded,

Pulled in close, the sound of the spokes,

Rises, a wail and a shriek and a whistle, with a

Flutter as each spoke spins up to 110 miles per hour,

Then spins down to zero for a millisecond.

The howl of the wind wraps around me, the

Angular speed of the wheels makes the bike solid,

Straight in a way it never feels at lower speeds,

For a moment I know there are four square inches of

Rubber on the road, ounces of carbon rim holding,

The tire and the tube, and my life straight up, flying

Down the hill, my eyes scanning for holes, stones,

Any danger and yet, I am grinning, singing with the

Spokes, more alive, drinking every vivid color,

Pattern, feeling. Eighty feet every second, then the

Hill levels, the trees stand up straight again, I sit up.

45, 35, 30, 20 up the hill on the other side of the bridge, the

Momentum is gone in three seconds. I spin the pedals to

Climb the hill ahead, three miles, twenty minutes, silent

Spokes now stressed with load as I stand and push the

Pedals. Their moment of weightless delight, gone till the

Next long, steep grade gives them freedom, their moment.

-->