Fall. The Cyclists' Season.
That first downhill, on that first commute to work after Labor Day weekend.
That very first chill of morning temperatures below 50F degrees.
No arm or leg warmers yet... but you begin to remember where you last put them, back in March.
The first hint of dryness to the air... the Kansas humidity finally pushed well south by the first north winds.
The smells... ambiguous, but enough to stir memories. Colorado... or Michigan... Octoberfest beers... bikes...
Gravel roads call, hot cider, the feel of wool between your fingers, the crunch of fallen leaves under tires.
It's all coming, so soon...
It's still summer... but only a few weeks left.
I can taste it in the air.