Twenty years ago I read Josie Dew’s The Wind In My Wheels – one woman’s account of her life-enhancing adventures travelling around the world on a bike. The book’s title, and much else besides, has remained with me, a regular, albeit not quite so energetic, cyclist.
Bowling along a cyclepath with the music of the wind in my wheels affords precious thinking time – and strikes me as an apt metaphor for my own experience of life. Open road and obstacle. Starting and stopping. Speeding and slowing. Sights and sounds. Smiles and sadness. Surefootedness and silliness. Sunshine and showers.
I’m not aiming to write a book here – only to blog a bit about life and love, about vivifying poetry and prose and travels, and about what it might mean for me, perhaps for any of us – to have wind in my wheels.