The whirring of the new tires on the pavement. The low dull hum.
Pea gravel depressed and then flung and then landing inches away on other undisturbed pea gravel.
The sound of the tire crunching through the thin layer of ice atop the barely there puddle in the middle of the trail.
The pulse at your temples.
Does mud have a sound? It doesn't sound like riding through a puddle, though it's wet like water. It doesn't sound like dirt, whatever dirt sounds like. I don't know the sound it makes, but I had great fun riding through it on the towpath on the way home. Riding through mud is, prima facie, fun. But it was also fun because I have close to no aptitude for it. It was a struggle and I nearly fell down a bunch. But there's something fun about doing something you have no aptitude for (why do you think I keep blogging?) and if nothing else, I'll probably be better at it next time and there's a lot of fun to be had in improvement, even if only marginal. I muddied my bike and pants and coat and put two of those things in the washing machine. I guess I'll find another way to clean off my pants.
A Secret Service guy told me I couldn't take a picture of the White Houee because I wasn't "allowed" to stop on the Ellipse. Or maybe I was allowed but I would've likely been run over by a driver using the Ellipse. The only people allowed to drive on the Ellipse have to be let in by the Sevret Service, so this guy probably knows the quality of the drivers they let in. Or maybe it had nothing to do with my safety at all and I'm just supposed to keep moving because security state.
A bunch of other bike commuters and I stormed a fence by the Capitol after no one would answer us about whether we were allowed through. A good test of whether something is restricted access or "restricted access" is whether they stop bicyclists from going through. Because bicyclists will always try to get through. This is the nature of the bicyclist.