So, it makes sense to “follow your nose” when pondering an evening’s destination; you can count on the sense of smell to point you towards the most basic and fundamental sort of human experiences.
Similarly, since olfaction probably evolved somewhere in the vicinity of when those early slime molds began oozing from the primordial soup and making their way upright on land, heading for the water’s edge goes right along with the devolutionary theme.
Moreover, wasn’t the so-called “New World” in which we reside kinda sorta “discovered” by intrepid adventurers on the lookout for a more efficient route to new scents and flavors, especially, probably, that most universal of sensory enhancers, the one that comes from the sea, just like us?
All of which is to say that a simple aspiration to “smell salt” can thus lead to a nearly perfect night out on two wheels, one that includes a seaside destination, a chill plenty chilly enough to complement huddling around a fire sufficiently hot to melt aluminum, reminiscences about reminiscences; eventually, the sound of waves (although ripples might be more accurate), and best of all, no hike-a-bike.
In fact, the only snag in an otherwise ideal fabric of the night was a hasty departure of the assembled which led to a more solitary return home than anticipated, but, of course, you’re never alone when you’re with your bicycle, so ultimately, no harm, no foul.
So many things in the world these days just stink: war, climate change, national politics, unemployment, Twitter, etc., etc., by contrast, cycling retains its primitively sweet fragrance—smells like bike spirit!