I'm in Chicago. It's rad. Can't see any Altura anywhere, thus I am happy.
Here is how I got here:
The week started off in Afan. Lovely. Cold, sunny. Then this happened:
Hidden Valley on Penhydd. Best part. Closed. Bummer.
We stopped for lunch. Jam sandwiches. Awesome. Back up the Wall. Stop for a Snickers. Five people cycled past in awful, awful outfits. You're on a bike. Would you wear that to the shops? No. So why on a bike? So I had to do this for a bit to recover:
Back in London. Busy. Tuesday, hit up British Airways for a flight to Chicago. Crap films - All About Steve? Terrible. Virigin rocks. But we ended up here so that's all good:
And the El train is rad. Keep expecting Harrison Ford to pop out from a phone box like in the Fugitive. My sister watched that film and went: 'Great film. Which one was the fugitive?' This one:
We popped over to the Wicker Park district and mooched around the Rapid Transit Bicycle shop:
This dude was after a job there. He is a cyclist. Who looks cool. Not hard really:
And Rapid sold these shirts from Kona. Yum:
And after all that bike browsing effort there was only one thing left to do: