Lyrics in real life

Well it's a strange old game you learn it slow
One step forward and it's back you go
You're standing on the throttle
You're standing on the brake
In the groove 'til you make a mistake

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

You gotta know happy - you gotta know glad
Because you're gonna know lonely
And you're gonna know sad
When you're rippin' and you're ridin'
And you're coming on strong
You start slippin' and slidin'
And it all goes wrong because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

One day you got the glory and then you got none
One day you're a diamond and then you're a stone
Everything can change in the blink of an eye
So let the good times roll before we say goodbye because

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love
Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together
Sometimes you're gonna lose it all

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're just a fool in love

--Mary Chapin Carpenter*

Sometimes, you're both. In days of yore, when I was a bicycle commuter, I had changing facilities at work and the ability to stretch a three-mile trip one way into six. Now it's a trip under two miles, I usually go straight there, and since I don't have a place to change, I go in work clothes.

Let us all be grateful for casual dress.

However, cyclists in the early morning can be both bug and windshield, and arrive decorated with mud (if lucky) or insect remains (if not). Thus a quick rinse-off in the tightly-designed john has become part of my morning ritual. (Maybe I should take up Hawaiian shirts.)

* Some readers of this blog may be deeply concerned by the thought that I might be a Mary Chapin Carpenter fan. Relax: it's only a situational interest.