I was riding today down a two-lane road with high, steep, tree-lined banks—long, flat and straight, I'd surmise it was an old railroad grade. I was following a big truck, a car-hauler, as it sped along.
In its wake, it sucked up the loose leaves from along the roadside; countless tan lanceolate blades of willow oak. They swirled in the air, and danced along behind the truck where I rode.
For just a few brief moments, they paced me and I rode inside a sphere of stationary motion; I moved and the leaves moved with me. It was like riding inside a shaken snow-globe. Then the wind swept the air clean around me, and I was back in the world again.
That was fun.