The Car Whisperer

We flew down Augusta, east from Oak Park through the Austin neighborhood, no blinky lights so as to keep a low profile. Taking turns pulling into the wind with this year's Tour Da Chicago winner and another former messenger, we covered almost ten city miles in under 30 minutes.

The disappointment of the previous night had already begun to wilt as I wrote down my feelings, but was nearly dead upon finally waking up to the sun and warmth outside today. I sat on my back porch drinking coffee and reading, feeling every pore in my skin fill up with the light. The day ahead promised action, new friends, and knowledge.

You just sort of blend in with the area when you are riding with others, because you are focused on staying together. It's confidence, not cockiness. Alone, in a rough neighborhood, you might be a little more worried about who is approaching you, and you are not pushing as hard, so you aren't making as many lights. Tonight we glided with traffic, communicating wordlessly with it, flowing through the intersections in synch with the city's heartbeat. Being pushed from behind, as if by pressure at our backs, down the arteries, carrying much needed energy and nutrients to a body clogged by laziness and apathy.