By Fred Smoak
Sometimes seemingly insignificant things can define a place or time. On these rides, every day begins with a sound I have named The Rustle.
Like summer camp we have a lights out and a lights on time. But many people though like to get up before lights on. Maybe they need the time for chore team, maybe they want to do a few extra things, or maybe they just can’t sleep. They try to be considerate & not make any noise, but some things can’t be helped.
Besides our cotton T-shirts, there’s not enough natural fiber around to top off a pill bottle. The Rustle is the sum of all the artificial fabrics rubbing against each other, all the zippers being pulled & all the random noises of the early risers.
The Rustle is as random, yet distinctive, as the sound of people clipping in on a group ride. It lets me know I have no more than 30 minutes til lights on-and make the decision whether to get up and have time for an extra cup of coffee, or try and grab a few last minutes of sleep.
I never hear The Rustle except in Fuller rides, but I recognize it instantly when I arrive. Like Proust’s madeleines, it persists as a defining characteristic of Fuller Center rides.
