I woke up kind of anxious, so after much hemming and hawing and reading the paper and about Malcolm X and eating a bagel, I remembered that what I really needed was a bicycle ride. I rode up Baronne, wondered if next time I ride it that pool will be in at the Y on Dryades, took St. Charles the rest of the way to Tulane, wondered if next time I ride it that gravel pit will be asphalt, and back and around to Carrollton, wondered if they will ever actually finish whatever they’re doing on Earhart. I headed towards the lake via that crazy intersection and around past M. and D.’s–one last time with the bike-by, though they weren’t home to appreciate it. And then my tire exploded. Sigh. I don’t actually travel with an extra tire (sorry, dad), but fortunately Bayou Bicycles was just a few blocks away, and I’m happy to throw a few more bones their way on my way out of town. Fixed up, I got back on the road to Lake Pontchartrain. It is beautiful and lonely there, and t-shirt shop free–I will miss that place and the know that place is there more than you know. I headed back up Orleans, my ride routed by the infrastructure that has all been put in since I moved here, and home. Oh, I love riding around New Orleans.