I've been caged up for the last five days with some friends on a roadtrip up to Chicago and then went by St Louis on the way home. What a joy it was to get back on the bike.

However I was welcomed home with thunder storms. By the grace of the powers that be, I remembered that I had a rain suit in my car that I acquired from an old job with the water works. It was horrible for breathe-ability(?) but it was cool enough that it didn't matter.

So I took off to the local watering hole and sucked down a couple of cold ones before taking off for another watering hole. Apparently I was more homesick than I thought I was. What a quick zip through downtown. Legs burning along with the lungs as I had to outrun a crackhead with mysterious motives. What fun!

Today the weather looked better from my bedroom window's view but I didn't notice the blistering winds. Just getting back from Chicago, I think this is nothing more than my friend has to deal with on a daily basis, so I head out anyway.

I went to an outdoor art festival (actually I drove my bike to the neighboring city that would consume my day just to reach, a brief confessional if you will). I practiced my walking speed through the crowd and received no nasty remarks from the many law-dogs that were around. So I assumed I was doing it right.

The art was more than I could afford and the crowd represented an unnecessary source of resistance so I found other parts of the city to explore. But soon I found that I was on unfamiliar streets and seemed to be making nervous circles, if you will for lack of better direction.

Makes me want to find a name for my bike so that I can call out to her like a lonely sailor or something as pathetically romantic when I'm away.