Biking in the 'Burbs

I spent Sunday in the suburbs visiting Melissa. I took the local L train to Union Station downtown, then took the Metra suburb train the rest of the way. Betty Foy wanted to come with me, but bikes were not allowed on the trains this weekend because of the Lollapalooza music festival, so Melissa picked me up from the train station in her car.

Bike path beauty Melissa

When we got to her place we parked the car, picked up the bikes and set out to the liquor store.

I rode Smurfette, while Melissa took one for the team by riding her boyfriend’s less-than-ideal bike (Chanh, we gotta get you a new bike, man!). Transportation cycling in the ‘burbs requires a lot of knowledge of various bike trails, side streets and sidewalk conditions, because bikes really cannot take the usual routes that a car would. Once you figure out these logistics, as Melissa has, cycling can be extremely peaceful. We never really mixed it up with cars, a completely different experience from riding in Chicago.

Big suburban streets

Bike path panda - me and Smurfette

To get to the liquor store we started in the neighborhood and soon got on a dirt bike trail through the woods for most of the way. For the final leg, we rode on the sidewalk of a big road. The sidewalk was more like a poor quality bike path, since it was uninterrupted and there were absolutely no pedestrians. At our destination we picked up well-deserved ice-cold beer, a great treat because the temperature was in the mid-90′s.

Destination: strange suburban liquor store

Beer! In a bike basket!

After getting back to Melissa’s apartment we took our beer to the pool and relaxed for the rest of the day. Taking a bike ride first accomplished many things: acquiring beer, making a dip in the pool even more appealing, and helping us feel less like slugs for drinking beer and laying by the pool all day Happy summer!

p.s. The “cycle chic” tag for this post clearly references Melissa, although an adorable 4-year-old boy did point at my shirt on the way home and say, “Grover! I see Grover!” Which made me happy. Random fact: my mom does an awesome Grover impression (“near…faaaaaar”).