Chicago and Dearborn, trapped in traffic in an Escort, going nowhere fast, been the same since 95th and Western, chapped ass angry, rain coming down, nothing on the radio except Ambrosia "How Much I Feel", miss the light, gonna be there another 2 minutes, late for work, turn to the right, look through dirty glass to the sidewalk between two parked trucks: fixed gear rider appears from the right truck, wearing all black, arched over his bullhorns, skidding beautifully, wheel locked so tight I could almost read his spoke card, disappears 3 seconds later into the left truck, a memory stored, played over and over. That's how much.