Rides of Song and Story...
There was a time - I worked in a library for sixteen years - I came to realize that all librarians talk to themselves. I don't know if this is due to being surrounded by so many words, hour after hour, day by day, or if the habit comes carried over from so many conversations held with library patrons, researchers, or something common to the personal makeup of the individuals, but librarians are masters at that game.
unlike Maria and the von Trapp kids, I may sing,
but the words will never make it past my lips
If someone were to conduct a poll among cyclists asking how many help the long miles pass with the aid of a song (or songs) running through their heads, I suspect the number would be somewhat comparable to the number of librarians who talk to themselves. I have known people who could reel off song after song without missing a pedal rotation, or a beat for that matter; they have minds for things like that. I, on the other hand and with very few exceptions, can only sing along when a song is actually being played. Oh, I know tens, maybe up to or even over a hundred, different fragments of lyrics, but without John, Peter, Alice, Sammy, or Mama Cass singing along at the same time, I will be darned if I can pull enough lyrics out of the air to make a full song. Therefore, what tends to happen, when I am riding along in song mode, is that I replay a certain lyric over and over, ad nauseum until I have had all I can stand and desperately try to come up with another. This isn't always easy, because nine times out of ten, the song the needle in my mind has been stuck on is the last song I heard before heading out. No picking and choosing about it; it's that last one or nothing. Coming up with a suitable replacement while riding is no simple matter; I don't know why, but clearly I would make a lousy lead vocal.
This then, is where those sixteen years of library work come in handy. When songs fail me I can fall back on Plan B - self-conversing. You'll know me on the road but, please don't interrupt when I am talking to myself. Some of my best, most brilliant ideas have come to me while riding, or at least a plethora of mediocre blog posts.
clearly Mr. Alda and i have something in common