singing terribly loud, terribly

there is only one thing more satisfying than singing out of tune with the windows rolled down as you roll out the miles yonder on a sunny day. that one thing: rolling through the fields on a bike, singing so loudly and terribly the cows give you strange looks as you pass.

I've always wanted to visit the historic city of brownsville, and i've always wanted to do it in style. so i rode my bike there, and we sang out of tune on the way. by we, i mean my bike and I, and the cows, horses, sheep, donkeys and birds we passed.

miles and miles of green fields and pastures. crumbling barns and farm houses. fields of camas and babbling brooks, forested hills and tractors. The clouds were the perfect kind of summery blue gray. The sky was a perfect combination of spring sun and summer clouds.

It was the kind of day that makes you happy to be alive, alone, on a bike. I dodged the dotted white lines and danced to my own terrible singing. I thought about boys and bikes and graduating. I thought about best friends and riding across iowa and dance parties with my dog. I thought about Portland and good food. I thought about california and colorado and cookies. Because honestly, what isn't to like about all these things?