The weather report called for thunderstorms, and the skies were growing grayer by the minute by the time I was ready to leave the house, but what am I going to do–drive to Federal Hill? Please. I packed my bag and hopped on my bike to fly down the hill, a song in my ears–a rare moment for a girl like me who follows the rules and knows better than to dull one of my most important senses when riding in the streets–please don’t tell. Oh, it just felt so good to fly down the hill, like being free and alive and like summertime and being a kid, and then I was dodging pedestrians around the Inner Harbor before shifting into an easier gear to ride up the hill to meet A. for beer. I locked up just as the skies opened up–I’m lucky like that. I snapped this picture of the corner of Light and Barney right before heading into the restaurant, and by the time I was ready to leave, the thunderstorm had blown right through, and I flew home, pumping my legs up and down and just enjoying the feel of the mechanics of the thing. It was a good weekend; all it needed was one more steady bike ride, and I’m glad I fit that in between the rains.