|docking area for trucks|
|onward to Lemont|
|our little incident...|
|destination Plainfield Starbucks. Forty miles from home.|
Some might remember the sawhorse that jack smashed into this summer. Now the pothole/sinkhole has been patched.
This Starbucks is nestled in a sort of hideous walmart/red robin/strip mall complex, but it's part of my routine. Something to look forward to, on a long journey that is tough whether I'm alone or with friends. Today I sat at a table and enjoyed the solitude of the moment, and thought about all the stuff churning around in my head. I sent a text to Peter, saying that my journey would easily take the entire day, given my slow pace. On the way back home I ran into a guy from Western Springs who helped me pick up the pace for a few miles, but at the Glen I cried uncle. Who am I kidding? I hardly ever ride, anymore! Making it home at a modest pace is the most I can hope for. So I pulled off, resumed my pace and rode home with the wind at my back.