Windproof. The ability to read the road. That’s what I’ve always been on the bike. Short ride today. Sometimes the wind `pushes’ you this way or that way. And sometimes – like today – it punches and kicks you to the ground. On flat prairies strong winds speak firmly: “I’m just going to make every pedal misery for you.” In the long, sloping flats and mountains of the Arizona central highlands the wind is a hostile thug, hiding among whippy shoves and pushes. Today, for the first time ever, a gust of wind while climbing a 4%er, punched and kicked me down. Faster than a roaring freight train. It felt like being hit by a flying wall. So, `reading the road,’ I turned around and went home. But I’ll be back. We’re a good match.