Blustery day, temperatures in the mid-40s with a stiff breeze that had ambitions to be more and most often came at an oblique angle that was neither headwind nor tailwind, inconvenient to all comers.
I rolled out on the Minuteman on the Rawland Nordavinden, whose lively frame, low trail, and supple Grand Bois Cypres Extra Legere tires come in handy when dancing with the wind.
While Arlington's Great Meadow itself lay sere and leafless, along the trail the remaining leaves were being tossed vigorously on their branches.
Yellow leaves that had already fallen had drifted around the ghost bike, hitchhikers catching a short ride on the time machine as it rides towards the future.
rod