Something Cool

June Christy sang a song with this title in the ’50s, back when lots of lyrics alluded to a life mysterious, sophisticated, emotionally complex, tinted by alcohol, adult.  Her song was bluesy and lonely, lyrical with narrative implied; the lady was alone in a bar, told her story to a stranger, got him to buy her a drink, and left as much a stranger as when they met.  In my teenage imagination I’d have loved the chance to buy her a drink, if only I knew what a “drink” was and how to order it.  I was not even The Graduate yet, not even from high school.

Today’s “Something Cool” was the weather.  Gotta love the seesaw changes we see this time of year.  Two days ago the high temperature was in the mid to upper 90s, despite the northwest breeze and the 13 (thirteen, count ’em–thirteen) % humidity.  Real desert weather; thank goodness no brush fires got going.  Today the temperature barely made it into the 70s, thanks to the fact that there was a persistent cloud layer rather than the “mostly sunny” that was universally predicted by local meteorologists.

But when I started out on my ride I assumed the sun would be out to warm things up.  It was not.  I’d not worn sunglasses; this is the worst time of year for bright sun/dark shadow contrasts.  Frequently you can’t see obstacles on the road in the dark patch ahead.  But I didn’t need them for quite another reason–no sun.  Consequently the air stayed cool, a feeling intensified by the evaporation from the northwest breeze and the headwind created by the speed of the bike.

My body needs to get used to being colder; I’ll be wearing my autumn gear before you know it.  So I like the goose bumps I got today.  I’ll take that kind of cool, even if it’s not from the kind of goose bumps I’d have gotten years ago having a fantasy drink with June Christy.

©Arnold J. Bradford, 2010.

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