Pointing nowhere, plainly, please.

From 7th grade to my Freshman year I flew an ultralight airplane (it was a very long flight - ba-dum bum tsh!). We had a small airstrip and windsock in our backyard that met the challenge. Of course when I'd get home after school or wake up on weekend mornings, I'd always be stoked when the sock was plainly pointing nowhere but down. I should have kept that windsock. Damnit. Anyway, this one was in a field outside Telluride, yet there was no airstrip.