I had a dinner date with R. in Locust Point tonight after a long day of work and other work and swimming and work. It was still warm out, but all the weather reports said temps were about to drop and rain mixed with ice was moving in. But oh, I wanted to ride a bicycle, so that’s what I did. I pedaled with rush hour traffic on the way there, up and around and down Fort Ave., a right on Steuert, and then to find a bike rack. The restaurant was in this new-ish Silo Point development with a giant parking garage, so I peeked in there–sometimes they sneak a bike rack in a corner. And they did, but all four racks didn’t take up as much room as the thing underneath this covering. After dinner the weathermen were indeed correct–it was cold and rainy. But tonight I didn’t mind that so much. The streets were empty, as was the promenade around the Inner Harbor, and I just floated along, feeling like the only person in the whole wide world, and that felt great. Until it didn’t, and then I just counted American cars on the side of the road and wondered if the lack of them meant anything as I lugged myself up the hill against the wind, soaking wet, the last few blocks to home. It’s always fine until it’s not fine anymore. No matter, as usual, the right choice was to ride the bike.