just after the Hamden town line, Whitney Ave. is being completely repaved all the way up to Skiff St. a few weeks ago, i was cursing the whole project–the deeply grooved road dragged my tires all over at the same time i was attempting to slalom between the manholes and grates that were raised five inches off the road. instead of slaloming, all the senior citizens (who make up 85% of Hamden) slowed to a baby’s crawl at the raised structures, letting one tire, then the other, climb over them. i’m not sure whose technique was more dangerous.

today, though, i hit the repaving at one of its last steps. the road was deep black, as new roads are, and marked only with tags indicating where lines are supposed to go. and it was perfectly smooth, the surface raised to the height of the former obstacles. at times, i questioned whether i was moving or not–there was so little resistance.

but as i was flying through Spring Glen, probably at an illegal speed, a sound came up through my feet into the cabin. i turned off the radio, trying to figure it out, and i could almost see it seeping into my tires and through all the metal and plastic, not losing any of its strength or tone in that journey.

it sounded like an armonica; you’ve probably never heard the name, but you’ve seen it on tv, and you almost definitely didn’t take it seriously. but its sound is actually very deep and stirring. it’s visceral–you feel it vibrating in your bones before your ears pick it up because the notes start so slowly and subtly, taking their time before they rise like mist off the glass.

i don’t know the science behind it, but the spinning of my tires must have whisked the air off the brand-new smooth of the road, creating that eerie hum of friction played perfectly. when i slowed, the notes went lower. i couldn’t play much–the road was crowded with saturday traffic–but i paid attention as closely as i could, letting the sound soak into my skin.

i couldn’t capture it–if i closed my eyes to memorize, i’d crash; if i stopped, the sound would disappear. the best i could do was drive and smile.

and that’s what i did.