Fuck you, you fucking, fucking, fucking headwind.

Today I gazed into the twisted visage of my own true nemesis: a
twisted, god-forsaken headwind that steals 15-20 mph from me, actually
prevents me from rolling downhill, and leaves me swearing oaths of
rage and despair. Instead of enjoying a leisurely afternoon of
coasting after my morning climb, I am now CLIMBING DOWNHILL. The most
frustrating thing is its absolute capriciousness - if I had merely
come on another day, I might have made four times the speed with half
the effort. It slmost seems personal in its targeted whimsy. Curse
you, you fucking, fucking, fucking headwind! I'll see you in court - I
mean HELL!