Hug me, I’m wearing a hoodie

A pivotal moment occurred last night in Austin, meteorologically speaking.

Before setting off just after sunset to cycle downtown, I had to go back inside and dig out a hoodie as there was a perceptible nip in the air. Living in Austin, my collection of hoodies languishes in a box for most of the year, unused.

But suddenly the moment arrives and they’re back in use.

I’m fairly sure one of my mother’s theories about why I’m still unmarried at 33 years old is because of my propensity to still wear T-shirts and hoodies, and perhaps she’s right, but they’re hard to give up.

Snugly encased in my hoodie I cycled down Sixth Street as it began to come to life; past pedi-cabs touting for business, illuminated fairy lights strung across bar’s patios and horse-drawn carriages waiting outside Austin’s oldest hotel, The Driskill.

Two fellow cyclists dressed up for the evening wearing mini-skirts and high heels pulled in front of me for a few blocks, making it hard to concentrate on the traffic.

I lost them at South Congress Avenue when the lights turned red on me and they cycled off toward what I imagined was going to be a fun night.