EDIT: I just realized that I might be spelling Gabby's name incorrectly. Because I've never seen it written I don't know if it's a full name or short for something or just a nickname she hates but everyone uses anyway because people are such very cruel animals. So I guess I apologize if it's wrong or if it's a cruel nickname. It's all I've got at the moment.
I just went on a pretty cool bike journey to the southern edge of Chicago and back with Gabby and Heather. We went mostly down Cottage Grove and King Drive, through the Chicago State campus (empty for the summer and holiday), down South Michigan to 119th Street. Then around Morgan we jogged down to 120th and saw an old Ingersoll facility of some sort. It appeared to have recently suffered a big fire: the roof was mostly collapsed and some wood parts of the frame had what looked like recent fire damage. Plus we found really old papers and computer punch cards in nearby brush that were really well preserved. They couldn't have been out there through a heavy storm, and we had plenty of rain in June.
Fast-forward to after dinner. We were in Beverly, basically, and there was a reasonably safe and direct way for Gabby to get back to Hyde Park from there. A direct route back to Pilsen would have taken Heather and me through some areas we didn't want to go through at that time of night. Heather took the CTA back north and I went to bike the long way to Pilsen via Hyde Park. Gabby and I were on Vincennes, which runs diagonally, and we'd veered off onto Halsted (a very easy thing to do, apparently). We realized this around 79th street, when Gabby mentioned that her favorite blues club was on South Chicago somewhere in the 70s. So we just rode east to South Chicago, then went back and forth until we found Lee's Unleaded Blues on South Chicago and 74th. It was a good show. We were a bit underdressed and tired and left at the first intermission...
... at which time we noticed Ally Sheedy, the goth chick from The Breakfast Club, was bowling in the lane next to us and we asked her for her autograph but she didn't have a pen, so we followed her out to her car, but on the way we were accosted by five Scientologists who wanted to give us all personality tests, which were administered in the Scientology Center in Denver until 10:45, at which time we accidentally boarded the wrong bus home and ended up in Rancho de Fritas Rojes, south of Castle Rock, and finally got a ride home with a man who was missing his left index finger named Gary Bushwell, arriving home at 11:46.