Friday, 19 February 2010

The epic journey to the land of no day-glo

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:

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