Life’s Unexpected Lessons
I could never understand what the announcers were talking about. “It’s a hot, humid night – the balls’ll be flying out of here” always brought to mind Greenwich Village, not home runs. It just made no sense to me that the thick, oppressive, heavy – close – air of a humid night would help a baseball get outta the park. “No way,” thought I, “that thick goo has to slow down the ball. The announcers are dopes. . . .”
But this morning, on my 50-mile drive from home to the office, I had the first cool-weather motorcycle ride of the season. Temps were in the upper fifties, no humidity – pretty much your perfect example of a beautiful day.
And I felt like I was getting slugged.
I couldn’t understand how the weather reports could have screwed up; there was a lot of wind, and I just knew we’d have a storm. Except that at every stop light, I’d notice there was no wind. Flags hung limply.