First, I think that this Salon piece, a short essay on life without air conditioners, by Oliver Broudy beautifully captures both why I love New England and why we don’t have an air conditioner installed in the house.

I might feel differently if I had grown up in Texas. Living in Texas without air conditioning is probably impossible. Anyone who grew up there grew up with air conditioning, as sure as they grew up with refrigerators and other modern conveniences. In Texas, you grow up with AC the way you grow up with religion. It sticks with you. It becomes a part of you. You believe. But I grew up on the shores of Connecticut. To me, summer has always been a time of heat, the sun baking the paint on the bottom of old wood dinghies, small waves breaking, blackberry ice cream dripping down your forearm, and some lucky kid five years your senior fooling around with a kit-built remote control car.

That’s how I remember summer in suburban Philly too, and it’s how I like to think about summer now. When Mindi still lived in Boston, we used to have a small window unit in her room. Her room faced Mass Ave., so opening the windows meant noise, all night long, and it was impossible to really get the room cool without air.

But now that we live in Portsmouth, we turn on a fan, open the window, and let the night air and night noises into the house. Sometimes, when the wind is right, it kicks up the smell of the ocean and I fall asleep thinking of sleeping in the house we used to rent at Cape May Point when I was younger. At night, with the windows open, the occasional flash of the lighthouse across the ceiling, and the sound of the waves, just a couple of blocks away, mixing with the crickets and the cooled-off night air. Something special, something that the buzz of an air conditioner doesn’t really do much to conjure up. Anyway. Read the essay, ok?

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In other news, I raced at Wells Ave today, since there wasn’t much racing to be found anywhere within a few hours drive. It was a pretty big field, and, since they combined the A and B races, it went off early. So I had to race without really getting a warm-up in at all. Nonetheless, I rode ok. Nothing to write home about, but it wasn’t a complete disaster like Exeter was last week. We went fast, I made a few unsuccessful moves and finished somewhere in the pack. My legs seem to be coming back to me, slowly, and I’m feeling more and more like cyclocross will be good, at least. (More news on the ‘cross front in a week or two.)

Also, I did a 90 mile ride on Monday. It was good, but I’m still feeling tired from it. Just over a week until Working Man, so I’ll start a little mini-taper this coming weekend, I think.