We checked out of the hostel and hung out with some other travellers until 12:30 or so. Getting out of Chicago was relatively easy following 64 West.
About 20 miles outside of Chicago, a man with a brown moustache leaned out of the passenger side window of an old green pickup truck to offer me some advice.
"You know, you really shouldn't be riding in the road. You should be on the sidewalk."
I looked to my right and saw large piles of dirt, enormous ditches, and orange construction signs.
"What sidewalk are you talking about?" I asked, motioning to the dirt piles. Piper grinned. He and I both knew that, A) sidewalks are for pedestrians, not cyclists, and, B) this town didn't really have any sidewalks.
We rode away. Then Piper broke another front spoke.
