The Spoke Symphony

I tapped the silver spokes of a bicycle propped against a low fence, and—*ting!*—it let out the crispest, cleanest high C! Naturally, one note is simply an invitation. Hooking two fingers around the textured rubber tire to give the wheel a hearty spin, I held the tip of my cane steady against the revolving cold steel. *Trrrrr-clink-clank-ting!* It purred like a miniature glockenspiel, kicking up a delightful little breeze that rustled right through my scarf. I swayed in rhythm, altering the pitch with each tilt of my cane until the rotation wound down to a final, dramatic ring. Now that is bona fide street music!