Monday’s ride took me up to Hampden. I only moved a mile and a half away, but the way to Hampden is entirely different. The neighborhood is tucked away behind Wyman Park and Johns Hopkins makes it kind of hard to get to. This was awesome for the mill owners who set up shop there and only hired native-born white people and wanted to remain separate from the African Americans and white immigrants in the rest of the city, and for the white folks who want to remain segregated today, but for those of us just trying to get a straight shot to the acupuncturist’s, it’s really a hassle. From Waverly, I go up and around instead of over and up, and it’s all hills that my tired legs could have done without. Put yourself in an easy gear, I said, and it was slow but easy going up to the top of one hill, down the next, up, and down, and then I was there for my appointment, followed by an ice cream cone and last-days-of-summer lazing about on the street. And then I looked up at this sky–yep, time to pedal home, which I did, taking the old way, against the strong winds that headed the storm that would keep me trapped inside today. Oh well, guess I have to save that bike ride to the old neighborhood for curly fries for another day.